


The Backup Plan

by face70



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Abduction, Abuse, Angst, Bad Touch Chancellor Ardyn Izunia, Bounty Hunters, Brotherhood, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Clubbing, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode Prompto Spoilers, Gen, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Kinda, M/M, MT Prompto Argentum, Niflheimr | Niflheim, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Touching, Poor Prompto Argentum, Pre-Canon, Prince Prompto, Prompto's Barcode, Prostitution, Psychological Torture, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Torture, Violence, brotherhood era, gansters, no beta we die like meb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-08-20 10:19:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 81,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16553945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/face70/pseuds/face70
Summary: Noctis, Prince of Insomnia, is what you would call a "hard target." Insulated by well-trained, well-armed retainers and guards. Hard targets almost always yield high reward. The bigger the risk, the bigger the pay off. Sometimes, though, hard targets don't make strategic sense.That's when you go after the "soft targets."No bodyguards. No guns. The target itself totally unprepared for any threats, totally unable to even imagine why it'd be a target in the first place. Soft targets - low risk, often low reward.But then, most soft targets don't have a dirty little secret hidden underneath a sweatband on their wrist.- - - - -aka - Noct's out of reach of the baddies. Prompto's not. Chaos ensues.





	1. A Chocobo Tail

Prompto was 5 minutes from home when he got the text.

 **Noct:** U me + reign?

He stopped mid-step and knit his brows.

“Reign?”

Ah.

Right. Reign of Shadow II - the big summer blockbuster hit that was coming out in winter about six months too late. Not that he or Noct’d complain. They played King’s Knight, the game known for its delayed (but oh-so worth it) expacs. Nah, if anything, six months late was still five minutes early to the party by their standards.

Which was why Prompto feverishly texted back: meet at ur place!!!

He turned and went back the way he came, sparing a glance toward his dark little apartment in the distance. He should leave on a light or something. Ah, whatever – it could wait. They had a movie to see, baby!

Prompto stuffed his phone in his pocket. He tugged on his jacket, a little shiver creeping through his skin when it finally started to snow. Grey skies, dark nights, and finally the chill was setting in. Again, not that he’d complain usually, but – well, walking was good for exercise, sure! It was just the whole snow-wet shoes thing that got to him.

He counted his steps as he went, blue eyes skyward. It was weird he forgot that the movie came out tonight, especially considering how he’n Noct’d been talking about it practically non-stop. About how it’d live up to the first Reign of Shadow – or maybe that it’d totally suck and bomb.

Weird he forgot, but not completely out of the blue. Prompto’d been working a lot. More than usual, at least. Well, if it counted as working, anyway. More like … training?

With graduation looming at the end of the year, he’d been doing a lot of thinking. Noct’d be going his own way, up those glossy stairs to one day take the throne. Prompto would… go to college or something?

But no. If Noct was going one way, then Prompto knew he wouldn’t go another. If Noct’d keep him around, Prompto’d be around.

But it was kinda sorta the ‘how?’

He was pretty sure the royals had a photographer –probably a super professional photographer. Probably a whole bunch of’em with way better equipment than the digital camera Prompto fished out of a bargain bin last summer.

He couldn’t really cook or anything. Not to mention, even if he could, Prompto’d have to pry that particular gig outta Ignis’ cold dead hands.

He crossed his arms and hugged himself against the cold. Huffed out a laugh as the idea “bodyguard” passed his mind and he pictured himself next to Gladio. No way.

So – what, then?

Were court jesters still a thing? He could do that. Probably.

Times like this – like on this long, cold walk where it was too dark too early, the streetlights not even on yet – times like this were when he wondered.

Why, uh … why exactly Noct kept him around.

Not that he’d complain – not ever! Meeting Noct was a highlight in his life – maybe _the_ highlight. He’d never been as happy as he’d been the last three years. Least not that he could remember.

Not that he tried to, really.

Damn it. He hated when this happened. These cold, dark nights.

Prompto glared up as he passed under a streetlight. “Turn on,” he whispered while forging ahead.

But. But he knew why. Or he thought he did.

Noct liked him. Or something. He at least laughed along with him (at him? No way, man, c’mon…) – and they had a lot in common. Or at least some stuff.

Maybe – well, maybe it was ‘cause Prompto’d really been the only one to approach him? Nobody really had the balls before. Noct never really had a lot of choice, at least at school.

Prompto kicked at a pocket of snow in his way. He gripped his backpack straps tighter, tight enough his knuckles went white.

And then he puffed out a sigh, watched his breath cloud and disappear.

No news was good news. If Noct wanted him to get lost, he’d say so. Prompto was sure of it, so no biggie. Nothing to worry about.

Probably.

Eventually, Prompto stood outside the door to Noctis’ apartment and slapped on a grin when the door swung open.

“Took you long enough.”

“Eh, hey! I walked!” Prompto argued, laughing. He stepped out of his shoes and dropped his backpack on the ground before following Noct into the warm apartment. He rubbed his hands together, fidgeting to get some blood back in his fingertips and slowed up once he felt eyes on him.

“Want a picture? It’ll last longer,” he teased.

“Hilarious,” Noct frowned as he sat on the couch. “You could’ve called for a ride or something.”

Prompto shook his head and sat down opposite him. He grinned and shrugged. “Nah. S’good exercise.”

“Yeah, but it’s freezing out.”

“Some’d say refreshing!”

Noct sighed and leaned back. “Well, anyway. First showing’s at midnight.” He pulled out his phone and thumbed through the theater information. “Most of’em are sold out around the city, but –“ he glanced up apologetic, “there’s tickets for the place down in your district.”

“More exercise,” Prompto assured him with a smile. “Sounds good to me. Snag us some tickets and we can head down to my place – or, wait! Dude, seriously, I don’t think I told you yet!”

“..what?”

“Arcade near me? New machines this week. Get this: Re-Dead Hellscape Episode Lucia!”

Noct leaned in, “Woah.”

Prompto nodded, inched forward to the edge of his seat. “Yeah, man. Zombies and – well, more zombies. But, Chut- he’s the guy that runs the place – apparently got a good deal.”

“Lucia’s pretty old school,” Noct noted, eyes bright, “You thinking we swing there before the movie?”

“Ab-so-lutely we swing there.”

They swung there an hour later, the sun officially down, the moon officially up, and the streetlights officially on.

Inside Chut’s place, the neon blue and pink glow cast a warm light on Noct who snarled at the screen and tossed the plastic orange gun toward his blond counterpart.

Prompto caught it, his gut hurting from laughter. “Someone’s a sore loser!”

“Lucky round,” Noct huffed. He folded his arms cross his chest and glared at the split screen, a zombie enacting some decidedly lewd actions, squatting over and again, on his character’s corpse. Prompto laughed harder while Noct turned away, ignoring the frustrating creep of red in his cheeks and tried his best not to smile.

Which was easy once he caught eyes with the guy across the room.

Striking brown, almost black, stared right back – almost felt like too long until the guy finally turned away. But actually, he didn’t.

He was making a beeline for him and Prompto.

The man moved through the dim arcade smoothly. Tall and casual, covered head to toe in heavy winter gear, his eyes never left Noct.

“What’s up?”

Noctis turned to Prompto, kept the man in his periphery as he stalked over.

“Guess we’ve got company.” He paused, frowned, and focused on his friend. “I’m sorry.”

“Comes with the territory, man. No biggie.” Prompto’s blue eyes were locked on the incoming stranger. “You gonna call-“

“Got Specs on speed dial. Maybe it’s nothing, though,” Noct said. Prompto gave him the side-eye.

The man finally came to a stop before them. He stood a good head taller than them, smiled and gave Noctis the once-over. Then he turned to Prompto and held out a hand.

“Name’s Fraus. You’re quit a shot there, kid.”

Prompto looked at the man’s hand dubiously. Noct’s stared pointedly at the guy. He knit his brows as Prompto took it and gave a wary shake.

“Uh. Thanks?”

The man held his hand a moment, brows rising.

“Is there something we can help you with?” Noct butt in, tone indicating that they were not, in fact, inclined to be helpful even if he asked.

Fraus let go, let his hands slide in his pockets, smile still on his face and eyes still on Prompto.

“No, I suppose not. I’m merely satisfying my own curiosity.”

They exchanged a glance and looked back to him.

“Meaning?” Noct muttered.

“Well, it’s not everyday you see someone get that kind of score,” he thumbed toward the screen, “As far as I was aware, there aren’t many shooting ranges in Crown City.”

“We play a lot of video games.”

“I play way more than him, too,” Prompto supplied with a nervous laugh . He fidgeted with his jacket, set himself a little more at ease, “Guess it shows, huh.”

“Mm. Guess it does,” Fraus agreed. “And you,” finally he looked to Noctis, “stand out here like a sore thumb. Isn’t often I run into celebrities around these parts.”

“Celebrity?” Prompto shook his head, “Ah, no. Nah, we’re just-”

“What’s it to you?” Noct cut in.

Fraus shrugged and tilted his head a touch. “Not much, I suppose. Have a good night there, highness.”

Fraus raised a hand in a wave and turned. He walked off and disappeared between the machines, lost in the shadows and the blinking lights. Noct watched after him til he was gone, released his fist once he realized he had it held so tight.

“So, uh – weird, right?”

He looked over. Prompto had a crease in his brows, still watching the corner where Fraus disappeared, too, like the guy might show up out of thin air. He fussed at the sweatband on his wrist, spun it round and round like he did sometimes.

“Forget him. Some people are just creeps.”

“Yeah,” Prompto agreed and let his hands fall, shoved’em in his pockets. He looked over with a strained smirk. “Takes one to know one, right?”

Noct rolled his eyes and shoved Prompto’s shoulder.

“Anyway,” Prompto said, snickering, “we’ve got a movie to catch.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So that was… uh-“

“Terrible.”

Prompto grinned at Noct who was pushing his hands against his closed eyes. “Seriously terrible,” Noct continued. “All that flashing - and those effects?”

Prompto laughed and slung an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Look on the bright side – things can only go uphill from here.”

Noct quit rubbing his eyes and looked over, stone-faced. “They’re not… -“

“Trilogy!”

“Ugh. _Why?!_ ”

Prompto’s continued teasing was cut off when Noct’s phone rang. He leaned back to leave Noct to his call. He pulled on his coat and turned his attention outside. Not like he wanted to eavesdrop – although, to be fair, Noct’s calls weren’t always all that juicy anyway.

That - and Prompto was busy calculating how long it’d take to get home from here.

“Yeah. See you in a few.”

Prompto looked over when Noctis hung up and started putting on his own jacket.

“Specs,” Noct supplied, pausing to yawn. “Should be here in about twenty.”

“Man, and here I promised mama Ignis I’d have you home by ten!”

Noct smirked, but it lacked any bite due to sheer sleepiness. “You dork. C’mon, we’ll drop you off.” He paused as they made for the door, “Oh, hey. Your backpack…”

“Oh, right – left it at your place? I’ll get it tomorrow. Friday night, dude – or Saturday morning, I guess. Not like I’m getting any studying in tonight,” Prompto said while he pushed open the door and stepped into the night. A gust of wind right to the face had him waking right up.

“You sure? You can stay over if you want.”

Prompto looked over. Noct was exhausted. Even if he did come over, they’d be passing out right after they got in the door anyway. Which was fine, no biggie, but then Prompto’d have to get his butt back home early – like _real_ early to make his morning shift.

Or he could call off. Ignis’d be there. And Ignis’d cook breakfast. A real, hot, warm, delicious, Iggy-approved breakfast.

A tinge of guilt hit him. Prompto smiled and shook his head. “Gotta make that bank in the morning,” he answered. _And I can’t believe I was about to use you for your access to good food._

Noct nodded blearily and closed his eyes. He leaned over, using Prompto as a makeshift leaning-wall, and they waited for a while. A small crowd – fellow moviegoers - filed out of the theater behind them. The trickling crowd thinned out to a straggler here and there until it was finally just the two of them.

But then … why was Prompto holding his breath like they weren’t alone?

Acting as pseudo-support for Noct, Prompto’s line of sight was a little limited. The flickering, threatening-to-die streetlamp on the other side of the street didn’t help. Still, as far as he could see, it was just the two of them and the dimming light of the theater closing for the night behind them.

Prompto swallowed, wondering when the lump in his throat got there, and turned to look down the street.

Something was down there.

And then it wasn’t.

Big, black, and out of sight before he was even sure he saw it.

Prompto blinked away the fog of his own exhaustion. He rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. He looked down the street, watched while his skin prickled with adrenaline.

Or maybe it was just the cold. Maybe it was just the long day and the bad movie and that weird encounter earlier and the lack of dinner and everything else.

Probably nothing.

A while later, Ignis pulled up in a sleek back car. Prompto piled in, delicately (or at least trying) tugging in Noct after him. One head-bang later, the swearing Prince was once again the sleeping Prince and leaning on one side of the back seat.

“Just up there – it’ll be the next light.”

“I’m quite familiar,” Ignis mused, looking from Noctis to Prompto in the rearview. He looked to the road again. “I take it you two had a pleasant evening.”

“Oh, yeah – I mean, the movie was bad, but it was still fun. We, uh – we hit up this arcade before. Chut’s – new game, Re-Dead-“

“Chut’s?”

Prompto snorted because that name coming outta Ignis’ mouth was just not something he ever expected experiencing. And what a blessing it was.

“It’s his arcade,” he supplied.

“Ah.”

“But, yeah. Great night. Always is,” he said, glancing over to Noct who was just making the best sleeping face. Drool and everything. Prompto shifted a little, pulled out his camera-

“We have arrived,” Ignis interrupted, catching his eyes again in the mirror. Pointedly.

He couldn’t see, but Prompto was sure the guy was smirking.

“Thanks. Tell – can you tell him I’ll grab my backpack tomorrow night? Got work during the day.”

“I’ll be sure to pass the message,” Ignis promised. He looked out toward Prompto’s apartment. They both did.

Dark and empty.

“Are your parents-“

“Traveling for business,” Prompto cut him off while sliding out of the car. He shot over a smile and closed the door behind him. “Thanks for the ride – sorry to make you go outta your way.”

“No trouble at all,” Ignis assured him, though his eyes remained on the apartment. His grip on the wheel tightened.

“Sure. Okay, well. Night!”

The car pulled away, headlights blazing through the dark street until they were gone round the corner.

Prompto began his sleepy march toward home. He unlocked the door, locked it again behind him, and promptly flung himself on the sofa. He looked down at his phone and frowned at the black numbers in the blue glow. Three hours and he’d be up again for work.

He let the phone fall to the floor, turned on his side and closed his eyes. Ah, well. A little sleep was better than no sleep at all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ignis looked into the rearview for the fourth time in seconds. His highness slept on, looking rather undignified but comfortable enough. He watched fondly before his hardened gaze turned back to the road.

They had a tail. They’d had one since the theater.

He’d nearly insisted Prompto stay for the evening, fully aware of the stubborn reluctance he’d had to diffuse, but the tail had remained on himself and the prince and left Prompto well enough alone. Which, while unpleasant for them, was comforting. Noctis was well insulated by figurative (and literal) walls of protection. He could sleep soundly, none the wiser, til dragging himself out of the bed no doubt late tomorrow morning.

That plucky friend of his, however, did not enjoy the same protections.

Still, nothing to worry about. The tail followed them rather than lingering behind, the target in all this clear. It would be dealt with and put to rest quickly.

It wasn’t the tail so much as the empty apartment that plucked at the advisor’s heartstrings - concern of a different breed. However, it was late and the world, for tonight, would keep turning per status quo.

One last glance to his sleeping charge in the back and Ignis set all focus on the task at hand. He grabbed his phone and punched in a number, held it up just as the other line picked up after the first ring.

“It’s late,” came a gruff grunt, “Everything good?”

“The prince has acquired a rather persistent fan this evening.”

“You’re being followed,” Gladio deduced after a beat. Ignis heard the frown in the other man’s sigh.

“So it would seem,” he confirmed, “I'm bringing Noct to the citadel, just for the evening, while this is dealt with.”

“I’ll head up now. You gonna wake his highness up?” Gladio asked, amusement lining his tone at the prospect.

“No need. We can explain the situation in the morning after it’s-“

“Been taken of. Yeah, got it. See ya soon, Iggy. Be careful.”

“Always.”

They ended the call and Ignis shifted to put it back in his pocket, but he paused. He turned and looked out the window into the darkness. He frowned with a soft hum.

Their tail was gone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“We shoulda nabbed him before the staffer showed up,” said a man, a deep frown-line between his brows and frustration in every word.

“Damn,” said another, “Not like the kid goes to the movies all the time. Was this a one off?”

“Gentlemen. Relax.”

The two men glanced toward Fraus who set his phone on the table between them.

“What’d Claud say?” asked the first man.

“Claudius,” Fraus turned his attention to the men, “followed their trail as long as he could. It would seem the Prince’s driver was well aware they were being followed.”

The first man knit his brows.

“The irregular route they took was one strictly under the coverage of traffic cameras,“ Fraus continued, “It would have been all too easy to for them to identify us. Clearly the driver knew that.”

“Clever.”

“Indeed, Secor,” Fraus said.

“So, what now?”

Fraus and Secor glanced to the second man, his blond ponytail falling past a broad shoulder as he leaned in. “No doubt the guy’s got everyone in the Citadel on high alert. The prince – he’s not gonna be out in the open any time soon.”

“Terri’s right,” Secor agreed, amber eyes on Fraus. “He just went from soft to hard target. We missed our chance. And I ain’t prepared to have my reputation ruined by missin’ a bounty.”

Fraus retrieved his phone again from the table and opened it to an album of photos. He thumbed through them until settling on one picture, a distinct curl to his lips.

“Perhaps,” he mused, turning the screen toward them, “all is not lost.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He slept through his alarm.

He SLEPT through his alarm!

Prompto was a blur as he ran toward work. His hair was a mess, bed-head sprung up on one side that earned him a few looks and some kid’s, “ _Mommy, look! Chocobo butt!_ ” as he raced down the street.

The commute and waking up so late wouldn’t normally be the complete nightmare that was his life right now if he hadn’t left his damn metro pass in his backpack like a genius.

So, instead, he was getting his morning run in after all. His unplanned morning run.

Finally, the hardware shop came into view and he caught eyes with his coworker as he plunged through the front door.

And his coworker didn’t look… exactly all that, uh… thrilled to see him.

“Boss wants to see you,” the guy muttered, stone-faced, before turning a cheery smile to a nearby customer.

Prompto grimaced and wiped sweat from his brow, feeling a chunk of lead in his gut because boss never wanted to see him.

Like a man for the gallows, he skulked around behind the counter and pushed open the door to the back.

Mr. Torvus glanced over, mouth a thin line, and motioned him forward. The explanation bubbled up Prompto's throat, got gurgled there, because there were reasons but there wasn’t really a reason and he hadn’t showed up late too much before but probably enough that he definitely earned that face from the boss and-

“I-“

“Argentum,” Mr. Torvus interrupted, “This is the fourth time in two months.”

“I – yes, sir, I know, but-“

“No ‘buts.’ We had a paint job this morning and I had to send Utilius instead. I need my people to be reliable. Dependable,” Mr. Torvus continued, “If they aren’t useful, they’re gone.”

Prompto closed his gaping mouth.

Mr. Torvus held out his hand and Prompto glanced down, tried to ignore the tingles under his skin and the way his fingers seemed to stop working. He handed over his supplies – a bag full of brushes and a roller or two, paint-stained coveralls stuffed in at the bottom.

“Mr. Torvus,” Prompto croaked, looking up, “Please, I … I really need this-“

“Apparently not enough to show up on time,” the man finished. He turned away and tossed the bag aside. Prompto winced at the clatter. Without another word, Mr. Torvus walked past and let the door close behind him.

After a few beats, Prompto followed and continued right back out to the street.

It was still early enough that the sidewalk was crowded, people brushing by commuting to and from work. Prompto stood out front a little while, just watching before he looked up.

“At least… it’s sunny out,” he laughed, strained.

His gaze fell to the ground and he started the long walk home.

At some point, he ended up in the park, hands folded in his lap as he sat on the stone edge of a fountain. Too cold for the water to be on, definitely cold enough that it soaked from the stone up through his pants. Prompto shivered and looked down at his hands. Paler than usual – he must’ve been out here long than he thought.

He debated texting Noct. Not that the prince could do anything about it ( _and not like he’d ever, **ever** ask him to_) but a good venting was just tempting as heck. Still, knowing Noct, the guy’d try to pull something. Threaten Mr. Torvus with royal fallout or something. Could the royal’s sanction a hardware store?

Prompto smiled, just a little, at the image of Gladio and Ignis showing up and looming over his former boss while Noct lurked behind them all menacing and glare-y. Hell, Noct could be scarier than his two companions under the right circumstances.

There was that tinge of guilt again, though. Noct was Noct – and Gladio was Gladio and Ignis was Iggy. They weren’t his personal attack dogs. And they weren't there to clean up his mess.

Prompto’d figure it out. He always did. Wasn’t like that was the only job in Insomnia.

He only then noticed someone else sitting on the fountain ledge, a few feet down but still a little close for comfort. Really? It wasn’t exactly a small fountain and there weren’t exactly a ton of people out in the cold, snowy park during the middle of the morning. This guy just had to sit next to him?

Well. It was time to go, anyway. He’d been out here sulking enough (not to mention it really was pretty cold) and he had a job hunt to start.

Prompto leaned forward to stand but paused when the guy looked over.

Big dude. Not quite Gladio-big, but pretty darn close. Blond hair, long enough for a top-knot, and rather unsettling green eyes that were way more zeroed in on him than Prompto’d like.

“Cold out,” the guy said, watching him.

Prompto remained seated. “Uh. Yeah,” he agreed, wondering _then why are you out here, dude?_

The guy stood and smoothed out his long black coat. “Not too many people out,” he noted, scanning the empty park.

Prompto stood too. He was friendly enough, but this was… this was weird, right? He stuffed his hands in his pockets, frozen fingers curling around his phone in one of them.

“Guess it’s too cold for’em,” Prompto said lightly, shuffling away a step to leave, “Not really beach weather, y’know?”

The man looked back to him. Prompto couldn’t read that expression, the way his eyes seemed to look at him but more than that. Through him, or something. Analyzing.

“Guess some people have it in their nature,” he said, that cool expression coming alight with the tiniest hint of a smile.

“Yeah, I guess. Oookay, well, I got places to be, so,” Prompto shot the guy a strained smile and turned to leave, “Have a good da-oof!”

“Oh, we’re gonna have a great day, kid.”

Prompto stumbled back, eyes shooting to the guy he just walked face-first into. Taller than Gladio, but a little thinner. Brown hair, amber eyes, and a shit-eating grin that’d rival Prompto’s own on a good day.

And two big hands, both of which were curled around Prompto’s biceps.

“Um, sorry, dude. Sorry - you mind?” he stepped back – or tried to and failed. The guy tightened his grip.

That lump in his throat was back.

Was he seriously getting mugged? In broad daylight? After just getting _fired_?

Prompto looked over his shoulder and saw the blond guy heading toward them. He’d pulled a phone out and was dialing. Prompto glanced back to the guy holding him. These guys didn’t look like street thugs. If anything, their clothes were every bit as nice as stuff he’d seen Noct and them wearing – if not a little more worn.

So then why, exactly, would they be mugging some kid in a bargain bin jacket – and why would they be in an empty park, in the middle of the day, just hanging around when-

“Shit,” Prompto muttered. And then he struggled. He jerked his shoulder back, caught the brown-haired guy off guard when he got one arm free, and swung a punch right for the guy’s throat. He missed by a mile, but he hit something – at least if that grunt and his stinging knuckles told him anything– and managed to get his other arm free.

No way this was just some random mugging and Prompto had a feeling it had something to do with Noct. No way in hell was Prompto gonna get this kind of attention on his own.

“Hey!”

Free from the guy’s grasp, he turned and hauled it, slipped on the snow and caught his footing and sprinted like he’d never sprinted before.

“Damn it,” he heard blond guy, sounding too close for comfort. Prompto pounded pavement harder.

Cold air burned his lungs, his panting harsh, but he’d get over it. He had – he should call someone. Noct? Would calling him put him at risk? But then, who? Iggy or Gladio? Crap – crap!

He never got to make the choice.

Instead, he ended up tackled, chin scraping hard against the icy concrete and a crushing weight bearing down on his hips. His phone flew out of his grasp, but not before he’d managed to hit call. Not that he was sure what number, exactly, he’d gotten.

“Quick little guy.” Brown-haired guy this time.

“Get off!” Prompto barked, struggling more as blond guy pulled him up off the snowy ground. He shivered when he felt the snow soak through his jeans.

He heard ringing – blond guy’s phone – and then, “Hey, Secor. You mind?”

Brown-haired guy – Secor, Prompto guessed – grabbed blond-guys phone out of his hand and answered. Which, of course, left blond-guy to demonstrate what those bulging muscles of his were for.

Prompto choked, the thick arm around his neck too tight and solid as rock. He felt around for leverage, anything, just to try and pry it off. Blond-guy’s other arm snaked around his waist, the hold iron.

“Yeah,” Prompto heard Secor mutter on the phone, “Struggled a little, but nothin’ serious. Easy enough takedown.”

Prompto felt his cheeks redden, indignant.

“Yep. At the fountain. We’ll be waiting.”

Blond-guy glanced to Secor as he ended the call, their eyes catching. “He’s pullin’ in now,” Secor informed him, “You got’im?”

Prompto felt his captor nod, not really liking that he was close enough he could feel the guy nod or that he couldn’t get out of this freaking python grip or that he was apparently being abducted from a park in the middle of the freaking day but apparently that was what was happening here.

“Why – what’re you doing? What do you want?” Prompto glared at Secor.

It was blond guy who answered, “You’re our ticket to the inner circle.”

Damn. He’d been right.

“Yeah,” Prompto wheezed, “Good luck with that.”

“Terri, don’t choke him to death,” Secor said. He turned as a car pulled up, every bit as black and sleek as the ones in the royal fleet.

Which was way more unnerving than it should’ve been.

“Think you guys miscalculated a little. Can’t,” he coughed, getting air when blond guy, uh, Terri, loosened his hold. Slightly. “I don’t know anything.”

He only then registered that the car door was open - and that a familiar face peered out from the driver’s seat. Not sure how, exactly, but Prompto felt a little colder.

“You do know the Prince,” said Fraus with a tilted smile from behind the wheel, “And quite well, I would imagine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kicking myself for posting it now, but I wanted to so here you are. I'm at the very cusp of diving face-first into the FFXV fandom and needless to say the writing bunny (also thanks to NaNo) has taken off like a rocket into space.
> 
> I have the first few chapters written and will be posting an update every Wednesday from now til the end of the year (by which time I hope to have this completed). A woeful apology to some of my other wips, but for the moment, I'm running with this muse. 
> 
> Your comments are always appreciated, encouraged, and if there's anything you'd like to see let me know! Lord knows we all appreciate fan service :)
> 
> Last note: This is unbeta'd - I may or may not go back through at some point for cleaning.


	2. Uncovered

 

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“I’m inclined to disagree.”

Noctis set Ignis with a flat look, one brow rising. “We get followed all the time.”

“Much to my dismay.”

“Okay, then. So?”

“Noct,” Ignis returned the look which the prince shifted under, “Your tail evaded us which means they’re still out there. Gladio and I, and the Glaives, for that matter, will treat this with the seriousness it deserves.”

“Still at large, huh,” Noctis sighed.

“Indeed.”

Crown City passed by in a blur, the route from the Citadel to Noctis’ apartment stuffed with traffic. Still, at least it was moving. Even if it was snail pace.

Noct pulled out his phone and fired up King’s Knight. It was a welcome distraction. Sure, they’d dealt with stalkers before. All kinds of attempted you-name-its. But, the bad guys were usually apprehended by now – at least, they were always jailed up by the time they got around to telling him about it.

“Prompto mention what time he’d come by?” he asked to break the quiet. He glanced to the rearview mirror at Ignis’ hum.

“Sometime this evening.”

“Didn’t say when?” he pressed.

“I’m afraid not.”

So working again, probably. Noctis frowned down at his phone. Last night was fun and they’d been way overdue for hang out time. Looked like they’d be due again soon.

With graduation approaching, his and Prompto’s schedules combined meant less and less time together.

“Perhaps Prompto would be interested in staying the night,” Ignis suggested, “The event shouldn’t run too late. He saw Noctis nod in the mirror.

“Yeah, maybe.” He paused and shifted in his seat. He pulled up Prompto’s name and started typing in the first letters when his phone lit up and buzzed in his hand.

“Good timing,” he said, smiling, and answered. “Hey. Was just about to text you.”

No answer on the other end. If anything, it sounded muffled. There was grunting or something. “Prompto?”

Ignis pulled into the garage of the apartment, “Everything alright?”

“Butt dial,” Noctis shrugged, trying again. “Prompto?”

He kept the phone pressed to his ear and couldn’t help the confusion when crackling came from the other line, like something rolling over gravel. A car?

More muffled speaking. Sounded like a few people. Then a car door slammed – then aanother and the crackling again when the car pulled away.

And then quiet.

“Noct?” Ignis was looking over his shoulder, curious. They were parked. Home already.

All in all, what he’d heard – and maybe he was, probably he was jumping to conclusions – but it all painted an ugly picture that made Noct’s stomach tighten.

“Hey, Ignis. You got Prompto’s work number?”

 

* * *

 

“Please do try and keep him quiet.”

Secor frowned at Fraus in the front seat and clamped his hand over the kid’s mouth as he wriggled in Terreo’s arms.

“Stop it, kid, “Secor grunted, “You’re not goin’ anywhere so just quit.”

“Hold him,” Terreo said. Secor grabbed their struggling prisoner, which of course freed up his mouth.

“Let go of-“

Prompto saw stars, the world shuddering with vibration and rattling his teeth. Terreo pulled his hand back and leaned down, the sting of the slap a glowing red on the kid’s face (and his hand to match). By his feet and tucked under the passenger seat, he grabbed a black duffle bag, its contents shifting ominously on his lap when he set it there.

When it hit him just what, exactly, that had been, Prompto stared the guy down in fury. He’d been in a few fights – he could count the number on one hand – but that’d been a dirty move.

“Beating on kids?” Prompto scoffed, still reeling from the smack, “Ever make you reconsider what you’re doing with your life?”

“If it didn’t pay so well, maybe,” Terreo mused, earning a laugh from Secor.

The blond man revealed a handful of zip ties within the bag (among other things) and grabbed one of Prompto’s arms. The blond tensed up when he felt the zip tie slide around his right wrist just barely beneath his sweatband.

That was close. Really, really excruciatingly close.

Terreo didn’t linger, though, and repeated the move with Prompto’s left wrist. He finished off by lacing the zip ties together with a third, effectively keeping Prompto’s hands locked behind his back.

“I’m tellin’ you, you guys aren’t gonna get anything out of me. Unless you wanna know what games we play or how I totally kick his ass in King’s Knight.” Prompto tested the zip ties to find them unyielding.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Fraus said from the front seat. He turned them down a street Prompto wasn’t familiar with, the buildings looking more run down than he usually liked to hang around. They were in the industrial district, most likely. Which meant warehouses. Great. Nothing murder-y about that.

“Locations. Names,” Fraus continued, his dark eyes catching Prompto’s as he glanced past his shoulder, “Like that driver of yours last night. Just as an example.”

Prompto widened his eyes marginally. So they’d been followed. Probably since running into Fraus at the arcade. He held they guy’s gaze and hardened his own.

“What, you think I know every driver they’ve got on the payroll there?” he snorted and looked away, had to as Ignis’ face came to the forefront of his thoughts. “You know they have, like, an army of people doing that stuff, right?”

“And yet I’ve seen the very same driver with his majesty night after night,” Fraus said as he turned back, the lilt of a smile in his tone. “He must be exceptionally skilled behind the wheel.”

Prompto glanced over, just barely, and frowned at the back of Fraus’ head.

Maybe they didn’t know everything, but they knew enough. They knew what questions to ask.

Like he figured, a little while later they pulled into an alley tucked between two warehouses, one of which Prompto had an inkling was long out of use. One of the massive doors groaned as it opened and they rolled into a truck bay ten times too big for the black SUV. Apparently, though, they’d been expected.

Another guy, dirt-red hair and brown-eyed, motioned to a few others operating the door which closed behind them.

“Well, then,” Fraus said as he opened his door, “Shall we?”

The four of them slid out, Prompto sandwiched between Terreo and Secor. It was already a lot to process. They were surrounded by a sweeping vista of rusted out metal and concrete and a whole bunch of looming, bad-ass looking guys that Prompto’d never mess with in a million years if given the choice. But, and this was a minor complaint, the thing making it worse was the side eye that Terreo guy kept giving him.

It was the same as before, analytical, like he was trying to place him or maybe dissect him. Either way, it made Prompto’s skin crawl and he’d shoot him an annoyed, “ _What?”_ every time he caught him. It just earned him a ‘hmph,’ and a thoughtful smirk before Terreo would turn his attention away.

“You got him,” Red noted, brown eyes meeting Prompto’s blue.

“Claudius,” Fraus greeted Red while motioning to the goons holding Prompto, “It looks like we’ll be making some progress after all. Have you paid off our friends?”

Red - Claudius nodded with a brief glance toward the men who worked the door, all of them exchanging a nod. “We’re all taken care of here,” he said, the others leaving them.

“Your connections never cease to amaze me,” Fraus complimented. He followed after Terreo, Secor and their captive as they made way to Claudius.

The red head nodded. “So, this kid’s buddies with the prince, huh?”

“You saw it for yourself,” Fraus said. He turned to Prompto, “Our original deadline may be delayed, but progress will be made nonetheless. Assuming our dear guest here is cooperative, of course.”

“Yeah. Boss should be happy once we get back on track.”

“Have you heard from Minatio?” Fraus asked, brow rising when Claudius scowled at him.

“Claud?” Secor asked.

“Kid’s got eyes on us. Sure it’s a good idea? Usin’ names?” Claudius pressed.

“Oh, trust me. I’m taking notes,” Prompto threatened, glaring.

“Gutsy,” Claud snorted. Hands on him tightened – Terreo’s.

“Mouthy, too,” Terreo said.

“He got a name or we just callin’ him blondie for now?” Claud asked.

They all looked at him and Prompto briefly shrank under their stares.

“Come, now,” Fraus began with a warm smile, “Honor us with the name of Prince Noctis’ close friend.”

Prompto glared back, but it was a mask over the bubbling worry. Til now, they’d been talking business, attention more on that and less on him. Now? Not so much.

“Not so mouthy now,” Terreo muttered.

“Blondie it is,” Claud shrugged and turned. He motioned for them to follow. “Check his belongings. Phone, weapons,” he paused, looked at Prompto dubiously, “Well, phone at least. Name’s probably on an ID in his wallet or something.”

Secor wasted no time in unzipping Prompto’s jacket, the motion awkward as they left the hangar, or whatever it was, and filed into a narrow hallway. Terreo patted his pockets and pulled out his keys. He snickered at the keychain, a bright yellow chocobo missing one of its eyes and scratched up to kingdom come.

“Kinda looks like you,” he said, eying the kid’s poofed up hairdo.

“Prompto Argentum. Seventeen- ah, eighteen,” Secor glanced over with a smirk, “Happy belated birthday, there, Prompto.” He looked back to the open wallet and the glossy ID within. “Five foot seven-ish. Let’s see – got a, ah. Got a few cards in here. No gil, kid?” He shook his head. “King’s Knight membership card – that sounds important-”

“It’s a game,” Fraus informed them.

“Ah, right. Sure. There’s, uh… photography club. Seems like that’s about it.”

“Quite the little nerd,” Claud teased with a glance to the keychain and its owner.

“Photography,” Fraus hummed, “Well, then that would explain his excellent aim.”

Terreo looked over. “What do you mean?”

They came to a locked door but without any discernable keyholes. Terreo left Prompto to Secor and Claud and stepped around to a small box on one side of the door, a soft red-hued glow one of the few lights in the dim hall. He pulled out a card from his back pocket, lines of black etched into surrounding white, numbers and symbols lining the perimeter. He held it up to the scanner. When it beeped green, he stepped back to let them pass as the door whooshed open.

“Little Prompto here is quite the marksman,” Fraus said as he led the way into the new room. “At least virtually.”

“That so,” Terreo mused. He slid the card back in his pocket, eyes falling to Prompto who, he only just noticed, was watching him with laser-focus. Or rather, the scanner.

“Kid doesn’t look like he would hurt a fly,” Secor said dubiously.

“Doesn’t look like he could,” Claud added.

“In any case, gentlemen,” Fraus said, gesturing behind him, “We have arrived.”

Prompto looked away, finally, from the scanner behind them, from the pocket where Terreo tucked away the keycard.

The one with the barcode on it.

It was a coincidence. That’s all. Scanners, keycards and stuff – they weren’t exactly totally off the wall, unheard of security measures.

But the design.

The look of it.

He couldn’t help wriggling his wrists behind him, all too aware of the zip tie riding up just a little too much. He was getting hives or something, an urge to itch, to scratch away at it until the skin flaked off raw and pink.

“We’re staying in the city?” one of them asked.

Prompto snapped out of it, for once grateful they were so talkative.

“Of course,” Fraus confirmed.

It never crossed Prompto’s mind that they’d leave the city. But now, knowing that wasn’t in the cards – there was hope. Maybe this situation wasn’t as totally hopeless as he thought.

Not to mention he promised Noct he’d come over tonight. He told Ignis the same. They’d be expecting him and when he didn’t show, when he didn’t pick up his phone…

Prompto’s heart fluttered and he bowed his head. This was good. If he could stall, if he could just not piss them off too much and talk around their questions – he could do this. He’d already been dead set on not telling them squat, even if it meant … well. Either way, he knew he could last a few hours or a few days if he had to.

“We can’t quite call this mission accomplished, after all,” Fraus continued, “The bounty is for his highness. Sadly, dear Prompto here has no value for us other than the information he can provide us with.”

“Then I guess I’ve got no value for you,” Prompto bit out while meeting the man’s gaze. Fraus smiled again and exchanged a glance with the others.

“Perhaps not,” he conceded, “but I’m sure it will be entertaining nonetheless.” Fraus nodded to the others and Prompto was hoisted off his feet and toward the back of the room where a dubious-looking chair awaited.

They sat him in it, uncomfortably considering his arms were still laced behind his back.

“Sec, get the gear,” Terreo muttered, taking over their captive while Claudius lingered nearby for backup. Secor trotted off to get the things they needed.

Terreo took Prompto’s left arm and revealed a sturdy-looking handcuff. He looped it around the kid’s wrist, let it lock shut, and locked the other end around the base of the chair. One hand secure, he cut the zip ties and took the second set of cuffs to Prompto’s right hand and noticed the kid’s breath hitch when the metal slid around his wrist. Brow raised, Terreo finished up - same process, same firm snap around the base of the chair.

“Got’im all locked up?” A voice interrupted.

Terreo turned to Secor who returned with the supplies.

“All squared away,” Terreo said with a nod. He stepped back with the others, Secor a pace behind him and sparing a look back at their captive.

“Right. Fraus’ll be interrogating him and Claud’s backup. You gonna stick around and watch, or…?”

Terreo turned and considered the boy in the chair. The kid hung his head; those baby blues were hidden behind blond fringe. “Argentum, huh.”

“…Terri?”

Terreo turned and walked off. “I’ll leave them to it,” he said, “I’m gonna do a little research.”

“Pf, okay. On what, the kid?”

“Keep an eye on Claud,” Terreo added, an afterthought, “Don’t let him get too carried away.”

Secor sighed as Terreo disappeared the way they came. “Like you’re one to talk,” he muttered after him. He glanced over, Fraus and Claud finally making their way to the kid. Looked like they were about to start.

 

* * *

 

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Nothing at all?”

Claud sighed, frustrated, and shook his head, “Not a damn peep. Kid’s got balls, I’ll give’em that. Gotta admit, lookin’ at’im, I thought he’d be easy to crack.”

Terreo and Secor exchanged a look. The kid didn’t look all that tough. But then, book, cover. Judging. That whole deal.

“Fear not, gentlemen.”

They glanced over as Fraus strolled through the door, a kerchief in hand speckled red with blood. The door shwooshed closed behind him, but not before they caught a glimpse beyond of their guest and his blossoming black eye and bloodied nose.

“I thought you were supposed to be the ‘good’ cop,” Secor sniffed.

“Well, when diplomacy fails,” Fraus mused. “In any case, as Claudius mentioned, our little guest is proving to be uncooperative to say the least. Were you able to find anything of interest?” he asked Terreo.

The blond raised the folder he’d put together, much thinner than any of them would prefer. “The basics,” he said, “Address. Class schedules.” He paused and opened the folder, turned it to a specific page, “Found out he was adopted. Got the parent’s names-“

“Oh?” Fraus said, clearly interested.

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Problem is, threatening the kid with harming them won’t work. Looks like they’re more out of town than in it.”

“So, what?” Secor asked, “He lives alone?”

Terreo nodded, “From what I can tell. Gets a check from them once a month, but it’s not much. Explains why he’s such a string bean.”

“So, our poor lad in there is a technical orphan and nearly destitute,” Fraus noted, “Perhaps that explains his motivation for befriending the prince.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t strike me as much of a leech though,” Terreo continued, “Kid works full time on top of school.” He trailed off, lip curling in amusement, “You know he got fired this morning? One hell of a day.”

They chuckled to themselves.

“So bribery is a tool we must discount from our arsenal as well,” Fraus hummed thoughtfully.

“Fraus.”

The man looked up, dark eyes on Terreo.

“I’ve got a feeling this kid isn’t gonna crack,” Terreo said. “We may need to consider other options.”

The group tensed, their eyes on the blond.

“Terri, failure ain’t exactly an option here,” Secor cut over, Claud nodding in agreement beside him. “We just need some names from him. That driver, guards – someone close to his highness that _can_ be bought.”

“S’only been a few hours,” Claud agreed, arms folded across his broad chest.

“And the boy may crack yet,” Fraus finished, “Unless, perhaps, you have something else in mind?”

“Ransom, maybe. Make the prince cough up the gil to get his buddy back.”

“All based on the assumption that he would,” Fraus said, “Or, rather, that such an exchange would be attainable. I assure you, I’ve no desire to find myself surrounded by Glaives.”

Secor bowed his head in agreement and Claud scowled at the floor.

“Minatio’s bounty on the prince is pretty high, too. Not like they can’t afford it, but I doubt the royals’d pay that much for some punk kid,” Claud said.

“Fine then,” Terreo sighed. “Deadline?”

“End of the week,” Fraus proposed, “If he refuses to cooperate by then…” He looked to Claudius with a half-smile.

“I’ll take care of him,” Claud confirmed.

“Very well then, gents,” Fraus chimed, “Who’s up next?”

“Terri?” Secor asked a little eagerly.

Frowning, the blond nodded and followed after. They disappeared through the door.

 

* * *

 

Well, at least they were just his work pants.

Prompto stared down at the drops of blood soaking into his jeans making them stick to his leg. He counted them – he was somewhere in the sixties now – a welcome distraction from the dull, aching pulse swelling around his eye.

Wasn’t really a kidnapping unless they roughed you up, right?

He looked up when the door whooshed open again. This time, Terreo and Secor replaced Fraus and the other one. Prompto straightened himself, watched them when they came to a stop a few feet away, arms folding across their chests practically at the same time.

“Am I grounded?” he said, wincing as he grinned.

Terreo sniffed. Secor’s face went a little red.

“You’re just diggin’ yourself in deeper, smart-ass,” Secor muttered.

“That’s quite a shiner you got there. Was it Claud?” Terreo asked, distasteful, “Or you manage to get under Fraus’ skin?”

Prompto shrugged, the handcuffs clinking against the chair.

“Anyway. Look, we just need a name. Just one,” Secor said, “You give us that’n you can walk right out that door.”

“Sure.”

Terreo and Secor looked at him, brows rising.

“Prompto Argentum, class 1B,” he prattled off, “My hobbies include photography and video games. Favorite animal’s a chocobo. I like long walks on the beach and sunse-“

“Hey,” Terreo cut him off.

Prompto looked over with a smirk, but frowned when Terreo held up a folder and started thumbing through it.

“Says here you were adopted,” Terreo said, “That you’re struggling a little financially, huh?”

Prompto’s eyes widened slightly. He narrowed them at the folder.

“You know, kid, if you need money-”

“No,” Terreo shook his head at Secor, gaze still on the file in front of him, “No, he’s not like that. Are you, Prompto?”

They caught eyes until Prompto looked away uncertainly.

“Decent grades,” Terreo started up again, “Nothing too remarkable. Average kid,” he paused, eyes flicking, briefly, to the kid’s sweatband, “That just happens to be buddies with the prince.”

“Thanks for the recap,” Prompto muttered.

“I’m wondering why.”

Prompto looked up again. Terreo closed the folder set it on the floor.

“His highness doesn’t roll with a big crowd. So why you?” the man asked as he walked forward. He squatted down, knee brushing Prompto’s. “Cause I sure don’t see anything remarkable about you.”

Prompto stared back at him, uncomfortably aware of the weight of everything. The metal digging into his back, the suddenly lead-weight of the cuffs on his wrists. This was real. This was _bad_ but it was happening and he’d get through it. He had to.

For Noct.

“Preachin’ to the choir,” he joked grimly.

Terreo watched him a moment longer. He sighed, head bowed, and shook it once before standing and turning to Secor.

“You’re up.”

Secor lit up, smirked and cracked his knuckles. “All right, kid. C’mon, let’s not make this any harder than we have to, yeah? How ‘bout this – you ever been up to the Citadel?”

Prompto glared at him and turned his head away.

He saw a burst of light when the punch rained down, a shout of pain shooting out.

“Let’s try this again. You been to the Citadel?”

Prompto blinked, shook his head, the question fuzzy but he didn’t need to hear it anyway. The bursting haze in his vision faded back to normal, but it took another second for his mind to catch up with his mouth, “Last night, with your mother-“

 _WHAM!_ Harder than the first, enough that Prompto watched a loogie of blood fly out his own mouth. When he finally got back from his trip through space and time, he registered voices.

“-gettin’ nothin’ outta him.” That was Secor.

“I know.” Terreo now – and back in his face when Prompto looked up. Strong fingers gripped his chin, one hand dabbed at the blood on his face with a rag. “I know,” Terreo repeated, “Fraus gave us free reign, but…” he paused, studying Prompto again with that same look from before. He leaned back and stood. “Secor.”

“Yeah?”

“Bring out the big guns,” Terreo decided. He looked past Prompto to the back wall. Prompto followed his line of sight, hissed at the pain shooting through his neck when he looked over his shoulder. Nothing there, just piping overhead and empty space like the rest of the place. Except there was a drain on the floor.

Which was always a great sign.

“String him up,” Terreo added, pulling a single key on a single ring from his pocket and tossing it over. “Fraus wants us to beat it out of him? Then we’ll beat it out of him.” Prompto caught his eyes when his gaze swept past. He sucked in a breath.

The guy knew. He knew Prompto wouldn’t squeal – but he was gonna do it anyway.

Secor freed up one hand, locked it to the other, and marched Prompto toward the back wall while Terreo did whatever it was he was doing there in the shadows. Prompto watched him, though – out of the two, Terreo had some weird other kinda skin in this game. Secor – he was easy. Moneygrubber, from what Prompto gathered. Not so much for Torreo.

Well. Never hurt to ask.

“You know you’re not gonna get anything from me,” Prompto said while Secor strung his arms up overhead and laced the handcuffs over the pipes, “Time is money, right? I gotta say, you guys are making a pretty poor investment.”

He watched Terreo turn, probably with something to shut him up, but he stopped dead while Prompto struggled to keep his footing lest he dislocate his own shoulders.

Whatever fun torture device the guy had picked up was set down and he walked, slowly, toward Prompto almost reverent. Prompto slowed his struggles, eventually stopped them completely, because it was that look. Again. But _more_.

More than analytical. More than debating.

Wide – and understanding.

Prompto swallowed. There was that lump in his throat again.

“Wh… what?” he demanded, unnerved.

Secor caught on, watched his blond counterpart in confusion. “Terri?”

Prompto leaned away as much as he could when Terreo reached out. Was – was the guy going for his throat?

“Dude, I get it - I get … it was just a joke. I go too far?” he squawked, frightened. Frightened - for the first time in all this. Just a little, but it was there.

He pulled back, wincing, but frowned in confusion when Terreo’s hand reached past his neck

His heart missed a beat when Terreo’s fingers brushed his wrist.

Prompto snapped his eyes up, widened them at the sight. With his weight and the way he was strung up and dangling, the handcuff pushed right on up and under his sweatband.

And there, just under his captor’s cold fingertips for all to see, lay a pattern of black lines and numbers permanently etched into his skin. The barcode he’d hidden from everyone. Forever.

Terreo’s sigh was hot against Prompto’s throat. “I knew it.”

“Terri?” Secor’s voice was a universe away.

Prompto’s horrified gaze turned to Terreo’s face, the way the guy’s green eyes stirred with something nostalgic – something satisfied – the way his lip curled as he drew back his hand and finally, _finally_ looked at Prompto’s face.

“I think,” said Terreo, giving Prompto a tender pat on the cheek, “I just solved our problem.”

 

* * *

 

“So, he’s a Niff, huh?”

“More or less,” Terreo confirmed. He set Claudius with a look. “He’s a person of interest to the Empire.”

“And you’re quite sure?” Fraus asked, “The bounty on the prince is nothing to turn up our noses at, Terreo. Not to mention the recognition that would accompany such an accomplishment.”

“I guarantee,” Terreo said as he leaned in, “that turning in the kid’ll give us all what we want. And then some.”

The others shifted in their chairs, all of them too big for the card table they sat at. A makeshift headquarters for this little operation of theirs; it was covered in papers and radios, Prompto’s thin file sat upon a newspaper with a picture of the prince on the front page.

“We’re, what, just ‘sposed to just take your word for it?” Claud scoffed.

“What reason would I have for lying?” Terreo muttered.

“Oh, I don’t know, Terr,” Claud set his hands on the table, fingers sprawling and a hitch in his shoulders as he glared, “You Niffs gotta stick together, right?”

Secor shifted uncomfortably, “Hey, now...-”

“Gentlemen, please,” Fraus cut him off, raising his hands to ease the tension. Not that it worked. Terreo and Claudius held each other’s eyes, scowls heavy.

“Gentlemen,” Fraus tried again, “I would remind you that, despite our personal motivations, our goal here is the same. Fortune,” he nodded to Claudius, “Glory,” he adjusted the lapel on his jacket with a smile, “And loyalty, perhaps? Whatever our divisions, let us overcome them for the success of the mission, shall we? Now, Terreo, you understand our skepticism of course. While I am certainly obliged to take your guarantee in good faith, the others may prefer a little testament to theirs. Would you enlighten us as to how young Prompto might fetch us all that glitter and gold you are promising?”

Terreo scanned the table and shook his head once with a, “Tch.” He leaned to his side and pulled his phone from his pocket. He waited a few beats before pulling up a number and dialing.

“Who are you calling?” Fraus asked, all eyes on Terreo.

“Old family friend,” Terreo said, “Research Minister Besithia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *NOTES Chapter Two*
> 
> So. My timing is impeccable. My first foray into the FFXV world, a story I’m really enjoying thus far, and LOL LET’S COMMEMORATE MY BREAK INTO A NEW FANDOM BY POSTING IT THE NIGHT OF THE STREAM FROM DEV HELL. 
> 
> Yes, I felt like I showed up to a funeral with airhorns and a clown nose on. 
> 
> Anyway, yes, I was kinda bummed to see that SE shot FFXV in the face, but then - I mean, what Prompto’s eVA Robbie said is true. A lot of games I played never, ever had DLC and those games aren’t ‘dead.’ The story is the reason FFXV persists even now, even if the DLC was coming, we’re only so heart broken because it’s the story we love. And as long as we breath life into these characters, there’s nothing dead about it.
> 
> Thank you all for the kudos and for your comments. I was blown away by the quick response and the love and you people are amazing. So seriously, thank you again. And keep those comments coming, they feed me and keep the daemons at bay. 
> 
> Still on schedule for weekly Wednesday updates. I will say, I’m hype as hell for Episode Ardyn and 
> 
> *FFXV EPISODE ARDYN 
> 
> SPOOOOOILLLLER  
> SPOILER
> 
> SPOILER*
> 
> but Verstael. Am I right? Boy, that two-three second shot of him just gave me so much inspiration. Bruh.
> 
> Anyway, Godspeed y’all and I’ll see you in a week.
> 
> Yes, I know it's a little early but I start a new job tomorrow so... still count on Wednesdays!


	3. Ramblin' Man

Well, it was all over now. End of the line. Number getting punched. Goin’ up to the spirits in the sky. Climbing the stairway to the Six. About to be pushing up sylleblossoms.

Prompto continued listing off phrases for just exactly how screwed he was.

They knew. They _knew._

And probably more than he knew, actually.

So. Okay, no sweat. His secret was out. Big deal. It was gonna happen at some point anyway, so… no time like the present?

But what did it all mean, exactly?

Prompto looked up at the barcode encircling his wrist. Decade-old lines cut through it, pale and faded since he’d last tried to… get rid of it.

Nothing worked, though. Obviously. Even if it was a tattoo, it was some kind of magic.

Some kind of curse.

Lucky him.

He should just burn it off.

Terreo knew what it meant if the look he made before said anything. Was he from Niflheim, too? Prompto glanced toward the door, picturing the guy – his fair features, his accent.

He should’ve guessed it from the start.

He tensed when the door swooshed open again, sure that by the end of this he was gonna have nightmares about that sound. He expected Terreo – kinda hoped it was him, actually, for an explanation … or something.

Instead, Claud walked in. Prompto didn’t see anyone else behind him.

He just stood there in silence, door closing behind him while Prompto’s attention drifted between him and trying to get some blood flowing in his tingling limbs.

“I shoulda known.”

Prompto finally focused on him. The man stared back, brown eyes burning with…something.

“Dirty Niff.”

Oh. Disgust - that’s what it was.

“Look, man. I don’t know what your problem is, but can we not?” Prompto muttered, not wanting a matching set for his black eye, “Yeah. I’m garbage, I get it.”

“You got no idea. Do you, kid?”

“Guess not - but I’m sure you’re gonna enlighten me.”

They exchanged glares.

“You people,” Claud started as he walked forward and stopped an arms-length away, “You’re like leeches. Parasites.”

Prompto let his eyes roll. He stared at the ceiling and sighed, “That all you got? I get worse on the daily,” he looked down again, lip curling, "I’m in high school, dude. _High school._ ”

“Not anymore.”

Prompto wrinkled his nose. He wanted to ask what the guy meant. But he didn’t want to play this game, to throw more fuel on the fire. So he kept his mouth shut.

Claud’s eyes flicked to his wrist, moved over the barcode and he grinned. “Never saw one of these up close,” he noted, “Killed so many of’em and never thought to look.”

Prompto’s heart climbed up his throat. “…what do you mean?” Was this guy some kind of psycho? “What, you … you killed people from Nifleheim…?”

“Guess you could say that,” Claud shrugged, gaze dropping back to Prompto’s. “Not really people, though. Not the right word for’em.”

“You’re one racist son of a bitch.”

Claud laughed, “You call me a racist you’re gonna have to call your little boyfriend one, too.”

Prompto’s anger bumped into confusion, but he glared, fingers curling into fists overhead. “The hell are you talking about?”

“The prince, dumbass.” Claud sighed, like this whole conversation (that _he_ started) was a chore. “His old man? Who you think ordered us to kill Niffs?”

“Dude, what are you talking about?” Prompto shook his head, “When the hell did the king ever tell anyone to kill refugees?”

“Refugees…?” Claud trailed off, tilted his head. His gaze drifted up to the ceiling, to the cuffs that kept Prompto locked in place and balancing on his toes.

“No. Never did, not that I’da complained if he had,” Claud continued, smiling at the angry flush on the kid’s face, “I’m talkin’ about Niff troopers. MTs,” he said, “You’re lookin’ at a Guard, Niff.”

“Guard…” Prompto knits his brows, “No way. As in Crownsguard? You?”

“Well,” Claud folded his arms cross his chest, some unreadable look on his face, “Retired.”

It wasn’t that the guy didn’t look the part. He was every bit as beefy as the few commandos Prompto’d seen. Had that kinda mean face, too, but without any of the … what, heart behind it or something?

“Retired,” Prompto echoed. Suddenly, a flash of rage shot through him. His eyes narrowed to slits, heart pounding in his chest, “Wait – just wait a second! You’re – you were Crownsguard? You guys – you’re sworn to protect the royal family! Why would … you – you, what? You just decided one day to turn your back and kidnap-”

“I swore to protect the _King_!” Claud shouted, shoving forward and gripping Prompto by the throat, “Not that little Niff-licker son of his.”

“You’re a fucking traitor!” Prompto bit out.

“Claud!”

Claud’s fingers dug in just that little bit deeper.

A click sounded, loud even over Prompt’s choked gasps for air. A gun clicking off its safety.

“Claud,” Terreo repeated, voice low, “I’m not warning you again.”

Claud, finally, let go. Prompto sucked in a breath, coughing, and winced at the lingering pressure.

“Yeah, yeah. Relax,” he muttered, stepping back and sliding his hands into his pockets. He stared at Prompto a minute longer before he smiled, turned, and started for the door. “Guess you Niffs do stick together,” he said as he passed Terreo.

He didn’t get far. Terreo set a hand on his shoulder, stopping him, and gripped tight.

“You touch him again,” he said, “and I’ll kill you.”

Claud sniffed.

“Kid’s about to get us a fat paycheck. You want any part of that - then make sure you pull your head out of your ass and do your job.”

Claud shrugged Terreo’s hand away. “Whatever.”

Terreo watched him disappear through the door.

Prompto watched the exchanged, bleary-eyed, lungs finally catching up with the fact he could breath again. This sucked. All of this sucked and it seemed like it was gonna keep sucking since Terreo was walking over.

“My-” he coughed, “my hero.”

He tried to grin at the guy, but Terreo just stared back dead faced. Prompto was… he tried to be optimistic as much as he could, he was _trying_ damn it, but things were kinda going downhill fast.

Noct … and Iggy. They had to figure it out soon. They’d come. They had to be on their way…

Right?

He closed his eyes, trying just for a minute to will it all away, to wake up and see the ceiling of his apartment instead of the pipes and the handcuffs and his tattoo.

He startled and opened his eyes when he felt hands on his own. Terreo was unlocking the cuffs.

“What – what are you doing?”

Terreo didn’t answer, instead just unlocked one of the cuffs. Without it tied over the pipe, Prompto fell down, body mostly dead weight after being strung up so long. He landed on his knees, smacked the concrete hard.

He sprawled out his fingers on the floor, arms under him. The blood rushed back through his arms fast, tingles exploding through every nerve. Prompto grit his teeth and looked up. “I’m not telling you guys shit.”

Terreo kept his mouth shut, just looked down. Just stared.

It pissed Prompto off.

“I know,” he said, finally.

Terreo gave him one of those looks again. This one was new, though.

Proud.

Prompto started to pull himself up, limbs more or less cooperating, “..okay, so… you’re letting me go?”

Terreo helped him up – well, more like dragged him to his feet. He had one hand around Prompto’s free arm and slipped the cuff around it again locking it in place.

“No,” he said, his other hand resting disturbingly gently on Prompto’s shoulder, “I’m taking you home.”

 

* * *

 

 

Noctis threw his phone to the other end of the couch harder than necessary. It ricocheted off the pillow and landed on the floor. He frowned at it before lying back, eyes on the ceiling.

“Still no answer?” Ignis called from the kitchen. He looked up from the dish he was currently washing and sighed. “Please don’t lounge in that suit. We’ll be leaving shortly.”

Noct leaned over and pushed himself straight, one hand smoothing out the wrinkles in his pants. He didn’t want to go to this stupid dinner. Or the briefing before it.

Not if he couldn’t text Prompto about it under the table.

“I kept him out late,” Noctis sulked.

“It’s no one’s fault but Prompto’s that he arrived late to work.”

Noctis shot him a look.

“In any case, I imagine he may not be in the mood to socialize tonight considering the morning he’s had,” Ignis continued, “Give him some time to himself. Besides, you have your own duties to attend to.”

“I know.” Noct stood and let a last glance slide to his phone. “Just … one more.”

Ignis sighed, the dishes complete, and dried his hands. “Keep it quick. I’ll be waiting with the car.” The advisor started for the door and slid on his dinner jacket. Noctis followed a few steps behind.

One ring. Two rings. _Prompto, come on. Pick up – I know it sucks you got fired, man – we should’ve skipped the movie… Pick up-_

_“Uh … hello?”_

Noctis froze. “Who’s this?”

 _“Who is_ this _?”_ came the tinny, feminine voice from the other line, _“Sorry, I mean- I just found this phone … it was ringing, so … so if someone’s looking for it-”_

“Found it?”

Ignis stopped, one foot already out the door, his gaze set on Noctis.

“Where?”

_“Um … Whisperweed Park. By the fountain. Is it yours?”_

“Whisperweed…” – that was in Prompto’s neighborhood - “It’s my friends.”

_“Oh. Okay, well - do you want me to turn it in somewhere or something?”_

“Ignis.”

_“Huh?”_

“Oh, hold on,” Noctis lowered his phone and glanced over, “Someone found Prompto’s phone. Do we have time?”

Ignis already had his own phone out, expression sullen for how late this could make them. It softened considerably at Noctis’ tone. He sighed. Again.

“His majesty will understand if we are a few minutes late.”

Noctis smiled and raised his phone. “Hey, you still there?”

_“Uh huh.”_

“I can be there in about twenty minutes. I hate to ask, but-”

_“Um … look, it’s just…this place is pretty quiet. I’d really rather just turn it in somewhere-”_

Ignis motioned at him and Noct put the phone on speaker. The tinny voice filled the apartment.

_“-thinking like a cashier at a shop or something?”_

“Miss, pardon the interruption. My name is Ignis Scientia, retainer to his highness Prince Noctis. May I have your name?”

Radio silence. Noct’s heart dropped to his stomach – did she hang up?

_“…is this a joke?”_

“Not at all. You are in Whisperweed Park, correct?”

_“…yeah?”_

“There is a Royal Municipal Police Station within a six blocks. If you could leave the phone at the front desk with an officer, we would sincerely appreciate it.”

Another pause and some shuffling. They waited, Ignis holding up a hand to calm Noctis’ rising impatience.

_“Sorry, just pulled it up on my phone. Yeah, I can leave it there.”_

“Thank you,” Ignis answered.

_“Is … are you really …?”_

“Indeed.”

_“Could I… this is bad timing, but could I, like… get an autograph, or…?”_

Noctis sighed and Ignis shushed him, “If you’d like, you’re free to wait for us at the station. We should be there shortly. Thank you again.”

_“Pen..Penuria.”_

“Thank you, Penuria.”

Ignis ended the call and dialed a new number. He glanced to Noctis, “Put on your shoes,” he said, grabbing his keys while the phone rang.

“Who you calling now?”

“The station to inform them of our arrival.”

They arrived in fifteen, the streets mostly clear due to the weather. Noctis climbed out the back and shook his head, “Never seen you drive like that.”

“Only when necessary.”

They climbed the steps to the front door and entered. A girl stood at the counter, younger than Noctis but not by much. The officers milling around the lobby sharpened to attention, relaxing marginally at Ignis’, “Carry on.”

“Here ya go, Prince Noctis.” The clerk behind the front desk handed over the phone. “Screen got pretty smashed up there, huh? S’unfortunate, those phone companies sure like ta charge ya for fixin’em. Gotta be more careful.”

Sure enough, the screen was shattered. The phone seemed to be working fine, but Noctis was positive the screen wasn’t broken at the movies last night.

Ignis ushered him out after he finished signing a napkin for Penuria. Not the most elegant of autographs, but she seemed happy enough with it.

The second they were in the car, the doors closed, Noct broke the quiet.

“Ignis.”

Ignis turned around. His expression was one Noct hadn’t seen much, only a few times in the past.

It wasn’t really associated with fond memories.

“This does seem to put a new spin on the call you received earlier,” he noted.

“I thought it was a butt dial.” Noctis looked down to the phone again, the corners and side scraped and dusted with a light grey. He brushed it off, flakes landing on his pant leg.

The sun was just set and the sky was dark. Ignis turned on the headlights and pulled out of the parking lot.

“Something’s wrong,” Noctis said as they turned up the street toward the highway, “You heard Penuria. She found it in the snow in the middle of a park. It’s not like he’d just throw it away.”

 _Not like he could afford to_ came a quiet, disturbing little afterthought.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Ignis agreed.

And then more quiet. Noctis looked up from the phone and glared at the back of Ignis’ head.

“So? Are we just ignoring this?”

Quiet again. The city outside rolled by in a blur of light and snow.

“Prompto’s missing!”

“We don’t know that.”

They caught eyes in the mirror.

“However,” Ignis continued, returning his attention to the road, “Once you are with your father I will speak with the head of the Crownsguard to put out an alert.”

“An alert,” Noctis echoed, unimpressed.

Ignis said nothing and took the exit for the Citadel.

“We were followed last night,” Noct muttered.

Ignis’ hummed in confirmation.

“Still at large, right? This morning I get a weird call - we find a smashed phone and no Prompto?” Noctis looked down at the phone again, glared at it like it should just light up and tell him where his friend was – that he was okay and just pissed off at Noct instead of…

“Yes. I’ve considered that,” Ignis said.

_Then why aren’t you-!_

“I know you’re worried. I’m concerned as well,” he saw the flash of Noct’s eyes in the mirror. “I _am_ ,” Ignis promised, “But you are my first priority. Once you are safe, we will find him.”

“Right.”

Ignis didn’t break promises. Noctis slid the phone in his pocket and hoped that pattern wouldn’t end any time soon.

 

* * *

 

 

Prompto inhaled. He exhaled. Two. In again. Out again. Three.

It was working – for now.

Home … what the hell did Terreo mean by “taking him home?” Prompto doubted the guy meant Prompto’s quiet, dark little apartment downtown

He knew the answer. He did, but he wasn’t gonna face it. Not now, not with his hands locked behind his back. Not with one bandana blindfolding him and another one gagging him mute.

He wasn’t gonna face it because if he did he’d pass out. So, for now ... One breath in through the nose, one breath out.

His mind wandered once he got as comfortable as he was gonna get.

It’d been maybe five minutes since Terreo left him bound to this stupid chair again. How much time did he have until they left? Were they going tonight? In the morning?

Prompto turned his hands in the handcuffs and felt the slide of the metal over his skin. Terreo removed his sweatband earlier, left his barcode out in the open for anyone to see.

He pulled his hands in either direction, the strain making the cuffs dig into his wrists. They were tight, but Prompto’d seen a movie or two. He could… he could just rip his hands out, right? Yeah, it’d hurt – but what would that be compared to whatever was waiting for him in Niflheim?

He froze up.

Niflheim.

The idea of … of actually going there? It was like finding out the boogieman was real. Yeah. He’d heard the stories. The Empire. The Niffs. Sworn, mortal enemies of Lucis – Prompto’s enemies. Definitely Noct’s.

That place – they wanted his friend dead. _Dead._

And he was gonna be there in person. Smack in the middle.

Why, though? Was it because – It had to be because of Noct, right? What, did the Empire wanna beat info out of him themselves instead of leaving it to these random henchmen?

No. Maybe at first, but this… this was more.

It was worse.

He knew his barcode … it wasn’t anything good. But that didn’t explain what it was. Not that he really wanted to find out.

So, okay. Iggy wasn’t coming. Noct wasn’t coming – or if they were, they probably weren’t gonna make it in time.

Okay. So. Options.

Prompto pulled again, eyes tearing up when he pulled too far. The cuffs were starting to cut now and he barely got his big fat hands through at all.

Play through the pain. Come on – can’t die here.

He sucked in the bandana gagging him, caught it between his teeth, and bit down. Hard.

And pulled.

Prompto groaned into the gag, gratefully muffled, his gut clenching as he tugged harder – harder. He ignored (tried to) the metal slicing into his skin and his bones grinding in a way they weren’t meant to.

He’d have to jerk it. Just jerk them through – break the bones, screw it.

Shit. Blood. He was bleeding. It was too slippery, now. He couldn’t – the cuff was slipping. He kept pulling, tears soaking into his blindfold.

Mother of the Six it _hurt!_

No good. They were on too tight.

_And now your hands’re bloody. Great job._

Well, at least the pain was a distraction. As soon as he eased up, a sting shot from the raw skin. Prompto clenched his teeth and leaned forward, trembling.

His hands shook, the clinking of chains mocking. He prodded around, hissing when he felt the damage. Nothing broken, no crazy blood loss worries or anything, but he’d gone and messed his wrists up pretty good.

Prompto laughed bitterly into the gag. Not like he wasn’t used to scratching away at his wrist.

He sat there a while, felt the steady pulsing coming from his hands, and listened to the silence. When the door wooshed open, he tensed and lifted his head.

“Alright, let’s – ah, geeze, kid.”

Secor.

Prompto flinched when the guy grabbed his arms and started dabbing at the cuts with something. His shirt, probably. Hello infection waiting to happen.

“That was stupid of you,” Terreo scolded from somewhere nearby.

Prompto murmured an insult into the gag.

“Has the boy hurt himself?” Fraus called from far away – the hall, most likely.

“Nothin’ too bad,” Secor answered.

“Ah. Well, be sure to dress the wounds as necessary. No doubt the Minister would be displeased with damaged goods.”

 _Minister?_ Prompto wondered _What Minister?_

“Anyway, I’ll have the engine running. Do make it quick.”

“We’ll be there in five,” Terreo answered.

Sure enough, once Secor wrapped what felt like a makeshift bandage around his wrists and freed him from the chair he’d been bound to, Prompto felt himself hoisted up.

He jerked back, violently, shouts reduced to muffled nothings by the gag.

“Really don’t wanna knock you out, kid, but if I hafta, I will,” Secor threatened as he and Terreo dragged Prompto along.

Good! They’d better knock him out if they wanted this trip to be any kind of peaceful.

Prompto tugged back, finding his footing.

Sure, maybe his hands were outta commission, but he had legs and a rush of adrenaline and he was gonna use’em.

With a hop back, he turned and swung out his leg in a kick and felt his shin connect with someone beefy. They swore, their grip going loose enough for Prompto to stumble back and away.

He jerked his shoulder up and rubbed it against the blindfold while he ran. The bandana was tight as hell, but he was getting it loose.

“Son of bitch, you little-“ Secor hissed – and right on his tail.

_Come on, come on, come – yes!_

The bandana fell loose. Prompto blinked, the fluorescent lights bright even in this dank, dark little closet they’d had him locked in. He looked around, caught eyes with Secor and sucked in a breath.

Okay.

The guy charged in and made to grab him. Prompto charged him back, jumped and jerked his knee up into Secor’s sternum.

Secor choked out in pain, Prompto following through with the knee and forcing him back. He started going limp so Prompto withdrew, watched the guy go down and hit his knees, gasping and clutching at his chest.

Good.

Movement, to his left. Terreo was up again, recovered from Prompto’s kick, and coming at him with another new look on his face to add to the album.

He was pissed.

Prompto squared up, blue eyes ablaze.

“Didn’t know you were much of a fighter,” Terreo said, eyes briefly flicking to Secor, “Makes sense.”

_What makes sense? What do you know?_

Terreo shifted his weight, as if assessing, and then the tension seemed to ease out of him with a heavy sigh. He straightened himself and reached behind his back.

Prompto flared his nostrils. Now or never! He leaned forward, started to sprint-

And stopped dead to stare down the barrel of a gun.

He looked past it, caught Terreo’s eyes. The man clicked off the safety and Prompto’s mouth went dry.

“Get up,” he said to Secor while walking toward Prompto. He pressed the tip of the gun against Prompto’s forehead. “Be still,” he told him, “I won’t kill you, but I will shoot to incapacitate if I have to.”

Prompto believed him. He swallowed around the boulder in his throat, stone-still when Terreo walked around to stand behind him. The gun dug into the nape of his neck.

“Walk.”

Prompto walked.

Secor pulled himself up and wheezed out a, “Little shit,” as they passed. He followed them out.

Prompto’s stomach flipped when they arrived. A truck was waiting, its sides advertising a moving company. He grudgingly walked to the back of it where the door was rolled up to the top. Inside, boxes. Tons of’em all different shapes and sizes. And dead center stood Claud. He reached down and snaked his fingers around Prompto’s arms.

“Gently,” Fraus said, appearing from around the driver’s side.

Terreo climbed up into the back of the truck and pushed his way through the boxes to the very back up near the passenger cabin. After a moment, he reappeared and backed up toward them, dragging with him a wooden box about as tall as he was with a locking latch around the front. On the side were faded words saying it was for a grandfather clock.

Which… who in the hell used those anymore? Prompto desperately hoped someone did somewhere- that there was a clock in there and it wasn’t what he thought it-

“Alright, let’s get him in.”

No way.

Prompto shook his head hard, eyes wide and locked on the box. He made to pull back, rolled his shoulders under Claud’s grip, but paused when Terreo pulled aside his jacket. There it was, the little flash of his gun.

No. No, no, no, no. He couldn’t. They couldn’t.

They did, though. Claud shoved him forward, Prompto stumbling as he went, pushing back as if delaying it would stop them.

Together, Terreo and Claud wrangled him inside. Claud was grinning.

Terreo looked apologetic and that was almost worse.

“Just ‘til we’re out of the city,” he promised as he closed the door, “Then we’ll give you a little leg room.”

Claud snorted. “Kid should probably get used to it anyway.”

The last sliver of light disappeared. The lock sliding into place was like a gunshot.

And then Prompto was alone.

He heard them push the other boxes back into place, heard the door of the truck shudder as it rolled down and locked. The rumble of the engine vibrated under him as they pulled in reverse.

Prompto listened to the hum of the highway instead of his own racing heart. Instead of throwing up, he listened to the boxes banging into his with every turn or lane-change. Focus on that … and he’d keep breathing.

He should’ve just risked getting shot.

 

* * *

 

 

They were stopped. Had been for at least ten minutes. He counted.

As much as he hoped and prayed they were still in the city, he knew they weren’t. These guys wouldn’t risk it.

Prompto kept his ear planted to the side of his … container. It was already humid inside the box – it wasn’t air tight, but it wasn’t exactly made for panicked breathing and body heat, either.

There were voices out there, deep ones, unsurprisingly. What was surprising was the decidedly un-deep voice. Light and airy - young. Female. Maybe with a drawl.

Everything was muffled. As far as he knew, he could be hallucinating it all.

He jumped when a deafening “CHEH-LUNK” sounded. Then a flow, like liquid running.

Gas station.

Prompto blinked hard, squished his eyes shut when they watered. A gas station. It just seemed so ridiculously mundane. Not the time, though. Not now.

Gas stations meant people. People meant _rescue._

He sucked in a muggy breath and shrieked into the gag for all he was worth, the cry tearing his throat up on the way out. Prompto banged around inside his box violently, felt the thing jerk this way and that against the others, banging against the cabin wall until he managed to get himself falling and stuck in a sort of slant.

Didn’t stop him jerking around though.

Outside, that drawl again. An upward lilt. Questions.

Good – _good!_

The door rolled up loud enough to rattle Prompto’s brain even through the wood.

“-delivery boxes. Some of’em get shook up, y’know?”

Claud.

Prompto screamed again – his cry muted by the door rolling back down and slamming shut.

Clicks. Shuttering. The lid of his box swung open and Claud stood over him like Titan, a black silhouette and seething. Until he got real close, a hand tight and sharp in Prompto’s sweaty hair.

“Be a good Niff,” he hissed, barely containing his rage. Prompto felt furious heat come off the guy in waves.

Oh sure, yeah. He’d be good. He’d be a freakin’ _great_ Niff.

Prompto yelled into the bandana again, eyes shutting when Claud choked him.

He’d give’em hell. He’d make this the worst decision they ever made – thinking they could take him, thinking they could take _Noct_.

He’d make’em regret this.

Only, he never got the chance.

Two punches, a right hook and an awkward upper cut, and Prompto was out like a light.

 

* * *

 

 

Voices again. Always voices. Always muffled. Conversation about him, but he was never a participant. It wasn’t for him. It wasn’t.

Means to an end. That’s right. That seemed familiar.

Prompto felt crust on his eyelashes, blinked a few times and wondered how red his eyes must look. They felt red. They felt raw.

Staring head on into a flashlight didn’t help.

Prompto turned his head away from the light, groggy, and closed his eyes. His cheek sank in against something soft.

Fingers brushed his bangs away from his eyes and his stomach clenched.

“Concussion.”

That voice was familiar.

“Great job, Claud,” Terreo finished.

Terreo. Right. Kidnapping.

Prompto opened his eyes again, looked from Terreo’s blurry face to Claud who was standing what looked like miles away. He licked his lips – the gag was gone – and turned his head again. He felt sick when he realized it was pillowed in Terreo’s lap.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t know you were so eager to get caught,” Claud spit, “Or, what – you not hear the kid screamin’ like a bitch back there?”

“We _do_ have medication for such scenarios.” Fraus said. _Check_.

“Guess we shoulda knocked the kid out before hittin’ the road.” Secor added. _Check check. The whole gang’s here._

Prompto inched himself up, body not entirely cooperating. He was both thankful for and unsettled by the gentle hand at his back helping him sit up.

“Too late to do anything about it now,” Terreo said, eyes on Prompto before he turned them to the campfire.

“Indeed. It would be prudent to keep him awake for the remainder of the trip. Can’t have our special delivery suffering brain damage, now can we?” Fraus smiled. “Speaking of – I’m sure you aren’t, given the circumstances, but perhaps you’d like some dinner, Prompto? I’ve made eggs on toast.”

Prompto leaned forward and threw up. His vomit soaked into the dirt, some of it rolling toward him before Terreo pulled him to his feet. The older blond kicked dirt over the bile and steered them away from the soiled spot.

“That’s a no,” Secor laughed and bit into his own dinner.

A few grudging sips of water later and the world was a little less hazy and a little more – well. It was still crap. But in glorious HD.

Were they… camping?

Really?

He’d talked about it with Noct. Lots of times. A night under the stars. A little King’s Knight, open air, great photo ops for him and good fishing for Noct.

Then, it hit him, and Prompto looked out over the horizon.

Out there and blinking in the distance was Insomnia. He looked up. Too many stars to count.

The air was cool and biting. The sky was violet and navy and endless.

He realized he was sitting, his back against Terreo’s side, and he felt vomit climbing up his throat again. He swallowed it down.

“Where,” his voice was wrecked, black haze creeping in around the corners of his sight. He coughed. “Where are we?”

Terreo paused whatever he was doing and looked down at the tuft of blond hair by his shoulder.

“Does it matter?”

Prompto’s fingertips brushed the chain still linking his hands together behind his back. Dizzy, he closed his eyes.

_Guess not._

 

* * *

 

 

Prompto paced in the back of the truck. If nothing else, Terreo was at least a man of his word. Prompto frowned, not sure whether that was a good or bad thing.

He could only get so far in the truck. It was, after all, stuffed full of boxes. Not to mention, his cuffs were latched to the passenger cabin wall with rope. Prompto sighed, head still fuzzy from his crap life sundae with a concussion on top. He rolled his shoulders to get some blood flowing to his aching arms.

Like he guessed, these guys weren’t new to this whole kidnapping thing. They ditched the moving company advertisements pasted to the side of the truck and the license plates, exchanging them for a spare set. Now it was just a totally not suspicious at all blank white truck hurtling down the highway en route to Niflheim.

Prompto’s gut flopped. There it was again. That name. That place.

How far was it? Not like he’d ever been outside the walls of the city. Yeah, he’d wanted to go one day, just – under, like, completely different circumstances.

Road trips were less fun when you couldn’t see the road.

Prompto sank down and sat, legs crossed, and closed his eyes. How long’d it been, now? Just one night? That meant it was Sunday and it had to be getting late already. So he was officially MIA for 24 plus hours. He estimated driving time – last night they’d pretty far away from Insomnia. Maybe like… 90 kilometers? 100? Far enough it’d been a glimmering, unreachable haven in the distance. And they’d been driving since practically dawn this morning.

Far enough he couldn’t get back easy. Far enough that … Noct and … Ignis …

Every time he thought he finally got a hold on things- that all the pieces fit in place and he was definitely facing up to reality, some new thought struck him and smacked him in the face to say, _This is real. It’s really real **.**_

And then the world would spin and he’d try to wake himself up.

He opened his eyes, scenes from the movie he and Noct watched just a night ago playing out before him. Stuff like this was supposed to stay in movies. It was supposed to have soundtracks and explosions and gunfir…

Well. Gunfire wasn’t that far off.

Prompto leaned forward, the rope going taught when he went too far.

Yeah, his captors were seasoned vets when it came to smuggling, no doubt in his mind. Gross to think about.

Prompto wasn’t dumb. He knew that kinda world existed. Black markets. Assassins and human trafficking and stuff. It’s just, he didn’t think about it. Not really. Movie stuff, games. It was far away and under the rug and something way outside his bubble.

Maybe it shouldn’t’ve been, though. It wasn’t for Noct. Not that Noct’d ever say anything, but Prompto noticed the times when they couldn’t go out like normal. He noticed when it wasn’t just Ignis and Gladio, but a few mean-looking guys in Crownsguard and even Kingsglaive uniforms loitering in Noct’s apartment hallways.

He knew the burden on his friend’s shoulders even if he didn’t want to see it. So, that’s what Prompto did. He tried to make it lighter, just a little, in his own way.

Court jesters were definitely still a thing if he had anything to say about it.

The truck slowed to a stop and pulled him from his thoughts. Car doors slammed, some muffled talking and laughter, and then the door rolled up. Like Prompto guessed, it was already dark outside.

“Ready for some grub?” Secor asked and climbed aboard, Claud close behind him.

“Where are we?”

“South,” Claud answered unhelpfully. He loosened the rope from the cabin wall while Secor motioned for Prompto to turn. He did, reluctantly, and Secor pulled back the bandages around his wrists.

“Yeesh, lookin’ a little yellow here.”

“You could take the cuffs off,” Prompto proposed.

Secor laughed, thunked him gently on the back of the head, and re-wrapped the bandages. He un-cuffed and re-cuffed Prompto’s hands in front of him, the rope still linked in between.

“Nice try,” Secor said, “We’ll put some fresh bandages on. Got’im loose?”

Claud nodded and handed over the end of the rope. Secor took it with a, “C’mon, kid,” and slid off the back of the truck.

Prompto followed, gaze darting to the campfire they already had going and a smell that wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Food. His stomach grumbled. He didn’t really want to eat whatever these guys were cooking up, but not eating would be stupid. He’d need his strength for… for when whatever was gonna happen happened.

He stopped short. Out there in the dark - he couldn’t really see - but it sounded like waves.

He stumbled when the rope went taught, catching eyes with Secor when he looked back in annoyance.

“Are we – is that the ocean?”

“You don’t get sea sick, do you?” Claud goaded as he sat down across the fire from Terreo who was nose deep in yet another file. Not Prompto’s, he didn’t think – it was thicker than that.

“We have medication for sea sickness as well,” Fraus reminded Claud from where he stood, busy with cooking.

Secor led them to the fire and sat himself by Terreo, Prompto planted between them.

“Why?” Prompto asked.

“You stupid or something?” Claud muttered, “Niflheim’s across the pond. You rather swim?”

Terreo sighed through his nose and turned to a new page.

Prompto looked to the ocean again. Now he saw it, the ripples and waves in all that black. The moon glinted on the surface every once in a while when the clouds broke.

Nothing in the distance, though. No land as far as he could see. There was an ocean between them and the Empire.

In a few days, when he looked up at the night sky again, there’d be an ocean between him and home.

Prompto came out of his thoughts when he felt eyes on him. He scanned their faces and frowned at the scowl Claud shot him.

“It’ll stay like that,” he warned.

Claud raised a brow.

“You keep makin’ that face. It’ll get stuck,” Prompto clarified. Terreo turned a page beside him and a thought struck Prompto. “Hey.”

“Hey what?” Claud bit.

Prompto bit his tongue. This guy was such a dick. “I get you don’t like… people like me. But you work with him, right?” His eyes flicked to Terreo and back, “How’s that work?”

“Necessary evil,” Claud shrugged, though his gaze did settle on the older blond who had yet to engage in the conversation, “One time deal.”

Prompto watched him, watched his face darken as he kept a steady gaze on Terreo.

Hm. Well how about that.

“It’s gotta get old, right?” Prompto continued, sounding bored, “Working with one of us?”

Claud bowed his head, just a little. _That’s a yes._

“Takes a lot of trust, probably. Running an operation like this - seems risky.” Prompto raised his hands. The firelight glinted off the handcuffs. “So what happens when we get to Niflheim, he bails and you’re surrounded behind enemy lines?”

Claud raised his head, eyes widening slightly. Prompto’s heart fluttered, his lip curling with the tiniest of grins.

“You’re talkative all of a sudden.”

Prompto turned and Terreo stared back, grim-faced.

Prompto shrugged and laid down, his back in the dirt and eyes on the night sky. “Just curious.” He rolled to his side, adjusting, and smiled at the sight of Claud’s suspicious gaze still locked on Terreo.

It was quiet a while - nothing but the crackle and pop of the fire, the sizzle of dinner in the pan, and the distant crash of the ocean.

Then a phone rang.

Prompto leaned up on his elbow, vaguely disturbed at how much effort it took. Everything was catching up to him. And his concussion probably wasn’t helping, either – especially since they kept waking him up every time he managed to get some shuteye.

He watched Claud shove his hands in either pocket until one of them reappeared with a phone.

“Yo,” he answered.

Fraus came over with a plate in either hand and passed them to Terreo and Secor.

“Yeah,” Claud said, “We did.” A beat. “That right?”

Prompto frowned, distracted from the conversation by the plate of food in front of him. Meat and rice, standard enough. He reached up to take the plate, eyes up when Fraus jerked it away.

The man held a finger up to his lips, winked and smiled, “No eavesdropping.” He passed the plate back and turned to fetch his own, Prompto watching after him a little red in the face.

“Ok, mom,” Prompto muttered under his breath, sullenly noticing Claud was off the phone already. He started eating to try and push the questions away, but he stopped short (something that was getting to be a bad habit).

Phones. _Phones_ , these guys had phones on them.

Prompto had Noct’s number memorized. He only felt stupid for not thinking of it earlier. But, well, to be fair, he had kinda been locked in a box and knocked out and handcuffed and a whole list of other things.

He immediately started plotting only to be interrupted.

“We’re gonna have to hit it tonight,” Claud announced.

“Come again?” Fraus asked, dinner in hand as he sat.

“Old comrade’a mine just called…” Claud stopped himself and Prompto frowned when the guy looked at him. “Fraus.”

Fraus glanced over. “Hm, me? Yes?”

“Got any’a that ‘medicine?’”

Fraus tilted his head. “It’s a bit early for that, don’t you think?”

“No. Not the sea sick kind, the other one.”

Prompto straightened, tense. “Hey – you don’t hafta… I’m … -” _Behaving. Not causing trouble. Being good **.** _“- not …doing anything.” **_Why_** _wasn’t he doing anything?_

“Fraus?”

“Patience,” Fraus scolded as he set down his plate and dug through his bag. He pulled out a vial, small and red, and tossed it to Claud. “Not too much, now. It’s potent.”

Prompto did not want to be drugged.

He struggled up, first to his knees then to his feet, faster than he should’ve. The world was on a spinning tilt, but he did not want to be freaking drugged.

“Kid’s got a concussion,” Secor reminded sleepily from his chair, empty plate resting on his stomach. “Really bringin’ drugs to that party?”

Terreo watched in silence. Watched Prompto, specifically.

Claud advanced, taking way more joy in this than… well, no. Taking exactly as much joy in it as Prompto’d expect the guy to.

“I’m not doing anything!” Prompto argued, stumbling as Claud snatched up the rope still linked to his cuffs and gave it a sharp yank.

“Time for the grown ups to talk. Nothin’ perso- well, yeah. I guess it might be personal, Niff.” Claud dragged him in with the rope, one short, harsh jerk after another. Prompto pulled back, but the guy had 80 pounds on him on a good day.

And it was not a good day.

Prompto grimaced, crying out when Claud shoved him down to the dirt and stone, back digging into it. The guy had one of his big hands on Prompto’s chest and pushed down while Prompto struggled under it, sweat on his brow and a blur in his eyes.

Claud popped the cork off the vial between his teeth and spat it aside. He replaced the hand on Prompto’s chest with his knee, hand gripping the kid’s jaw instead and forcing his mouth open. Painfully.

“Okay, Niff, open up and take your medicine like a good boy.”

“Bite me!” Prompto tried, but it ended up sputtered as he choked on the red liquid pooling in his mouth.

Claud poured it all and chucked the bottle aside.

“Claud!” Fraus was on his feet. Terreo, too.

Prompto’s eyes watered when Claud pinched his nose with one hand, the other forcing down on his mouth. He couldn’t breath – it was like the gag, but worse – ugh, and gross, the guy’s hand – but he was gonna choke or suffocate or - !

Shit – shit, he didn’t want this – he’d been fine! He’d been _good_ , why the-

Prompto swallowed. The flavor was sweet, but he could taste ash on his tongue.

And the effects were near instantaneous. He felt it bleed out from his gut to his fingertips in seconds.

There was angry shouting over him. Claud went stoic as he released Prompto and stood, arms across his chest, in the face of Terreo’s warnings and Fraus’ scolding. But they were all distant, nothing but swirly mumbles by now. Prompto couldn’t hear them except for the odd word here and there that cut through the fluffy clouds in his head.

“-ownsguard,” Prompto thought he heard Claud say, “- - - - alert out - - - - they’re looking.”

Prompto’s fingers twitched on his tummy. He heard the clink of his handcuffs and waves crashing on the shore. And then he fell asleep.

The next time Prompto woke up it was snowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! I'm early yet again! So - seriously, Wednesdays are still what I'm planning to post by --- but consider those the latest that a chapter'll be up.
> 
> On that note, thank you all for the comments, the kudos, they're SO awesome to get and they really do keep me inspired. 
> 
> We're picking up steam now and this chapter's a biggie. I do so love road trips.


	4. Boats, Trains, and Automobiles

Prompto opened his eyes and saw nothing but white.

“He’s awake.”

He turned his head, blinking to clear away the blur. A shape was there, maybe an arms length away, nothing but a big grey blob.

“..where… ?” Prompto swallowed down the rest of his question like sandpaper.

“I’ll fetch some water.”

The blur turned into a person – Fraus. Prompto watched him kneel and dig through his bag. He looked past him, out over the rolling white scenery beyond.

Snow. It was snowing.

“Welcome back, kid,” Secor said with a smile.

Prompto tried to pull himself up, but he barely managed to budge. He wiggled his fingers – he could feel his limbs and everything, it’s just… they felt like they weighed a ton.

“He looks okay.”

Prompto glanced to Terreo as he spoke. Yeah. He was… okay. Mostly. Why wouldn’t he be?

“I already said sorry. Kid’s fine.” Claud muttered.

Prompto followed Terreo’s irritated look at the guy. He couldn’t … What happened? It was like a puzzle missing most of its pieces. He just stared at them waiting for his brain to make sense of something - anything.

“He’s been out for five days,” Terreo replied, eyes dark, “You’re lucky you didn’t stop his heart.”

“Wait,” Prompto coughed and rolled on his side, trying again in vain to sit up, “..wait – I’ve been… I was unconscious?”

“Sleepin’ like a baby,” Secor said with a nod.

“More like a coma,” Terreo grunted.

The haze began to lift. Things got clear too fast. Prompto closed his eyes, shook his head, “I was … - that was a coma?” he croaked, squinting his eyes back open, “For a week?”

But why – where? His heart sped up, started pounding - and it was cold, so why was he sweating?

Prompto managed to struggle to his knees. He shook his head again and trying to find something, _anything_ to focus on ‘cause the world was sideways.

“Where the hell are we?” he demanded.

“Home sweet home,” Claud mused.

Prompto stared at him, confused. He winced when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Fraus squeezed, gently. “Welcome to Nifleheim.”

Things went into a buzz after that. Static, like sometimes when Prompto had to whack the old TV in his apartment to get it to work.

The others – his _captors_ went about their business. Prompto watched them like he watched the people on the street right after he got fired from the hardware store. It seemed like another lifetime.

A thought struck him like a bolt of lightening and he snapped out of his trance. Prompto jumped to his feet, pulse firing at full throttle.

He didn’t see the ocean.

They were in Niflheim and he did not see the ocean anywhere.

He registered eyes on him, surprised gasps of, “ _Woah_!” and “ _What’s your deal, kid_?” but they were nonsense. They were buried under the way he heard his heart in his skull and saw his breaths puff and drift away in the frigid air.

“I need… I have to go. I gotta leave.”

He repeated himself over and again. He started walking, floating. Drifting. Was this an out of body experience or something? Dissociating from reality?

There were hands on him, tugging gently- then not so gently.

Everything was white, white, white and grey and falling down. Snowflakes burned like embers when they landed on his face.

Everything suddenly turned green like someone flipped a switch.

The snowflakes were bubbles now, not falling down but floating up. Up and up til they were gone. People talking again, quiet murmurs under water and mute. People watching. Scribbling notes. Nothing but green and cold and steel and glass.

A slap rang out and Prompto cried out in pain. He stumbled, hands flying to his stinging face. He looked over wide-eyed at Terreo as he lowered his hand, the guy’s blazing eyes staring back.

“Back with us?”

The planet started spinning again and everything went back to normal.

“What was that about?” Secor asked as he let go of Prompto’s arm. Claud let him go, too. When did they … ?

Terreo shook his head, a weird look on his face somewhere between confusion and something Prompto didn’t recognize.

They led him to the van he’d only just noticed, this one a little less suspicious looking than the white truck left behind across the sea. Terreo ushered Prompto inside and followed behind. Secor climbed in on the other side.

“He must have had some kind of episode, I would imagine,” Fraus said as he handed the water bottle to Terreo.

“Kid’s gonna crack before we get to Gralea,” Claud sighed, annoyed. He sat in the front seat next to Fraus who fired up the engine.

Prompto felt a blast of heat from the vents. He was grounded now. Back from … whatever that had been.

He had to think, had to figure something out. Man up and face the facts. Which were the worst and a nightmare but it was reality and he’d have to deal eventually.

Okay, so. KO’d for five days. In Niflheim, deep enough that the ocean was out of sight.

No one was coming. No one. He was on his own. No rescue. No prince swooping in to save the day.

Prompto was alone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

There was a smell in the air. Heavy. Kinda musty - like a closet full of old clothes.

Prompto wasn’t completely opposed to being surrounded by chocobos. It was more the reason as to why he was surrounded by chocobos sucked.

He set his hands in his lap, careful of his tender wrists. The cuffs were, as usual, tight. They were tight enough that even the bandages around his wrists didn’t stop the irritation when the metal rubbed against them.

They were on the train going to Gralea. He looked over from where he was locked up, distracted by a soft, sleepy, ‘ _kweh_ ’ and a fluttering of feathers. He smiled – just a little. It felt like the first time in ages.

“Cute,” came a voice.

Prompto frowned and glanced from the chocobo to Terreo. The guy watched him (also as usual) and passed his gun between his hands.

“I’m outta your league,” Prompto muttered.

Terreo grinned, “I meant the birds.”

Quiet again. He just kept passing that gun back and forth, over and over.

“What’s, uh- what’s the plan here?” Prompto started, his voice hoarse.

“Your throat still tore up?” Terreo countered, “Warned you about all that shouting.”

“Thought maybe… someone would help.”

“Cargo cars and passenger cars got a whole lot of space in between.”

“Yeah. I figured that out,” Prompto mumbled.

Prompto watched him shake his head with a laugh and slide his gun in its holster. Terreo leaned back against the wall, hands behind his head.

“Seriously,” Prompto tried again, “There’s no way the Empire’s payin’ the same for me they’d pay for Noct.”

“Noct?” Terreo echoed. Prompto didn’t like how it sounded when he said it. “Yeah. No, you’re right. Your buddy’s got a high price tag, but you,” he paused, that nostalgic look on his face again, “You’re… different.”

Prompto couldn’t help it – he snorted. “You said yourself I was – what, ordinary or … you said unremarkable. That was you.”

“Ordinary kids don’t have a barcode on their wrist.”

Prompto clamped his mouth shut. He couldn’t help the glance to his wrist.

“You know what it is,” Prompto said after a moment.

Terreo nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Tell me.”

Terreo shook his head. “You’re gonna find out soon anyway.”

“Fine. Fine,” Prompto wasn’t gonna push him on that, “But … how do _you_ know?”

Terreo’s expression shifted, like he was debating what to say – or whether to say anything at all. He straightened out and leaned forward a little, hands laced together in his lap between his knees.

“My old man worked for the Minister,” he started, soft like a prayer, “Showed me around when I was a kid, sometimes.”

“What Minister?” Prompto asked, wavering, “Showed you around where?”

Terreo smiled, “You know much about the Empire, Prompto?”

Prompto didn’t. He figured his silence said as much.

“We put a lot into R&D – research and development,” Terreo continued, “Stuff like that. It’s all for national defense.”

“Doesn’t… don’t all countries do that?”

“Not like the Empire,” Terreo insisted proudly, “My dad was one of the best. He worked under the Minister. They came up with something – a project to save innocents.” He paused and added an afterthought, “Innocent _people_.”

“Okay…” That didn’t sound so bad. If anything, it was noble, right? “What’s that got to do with me?”

Terreo looked at him, that bizarre recognition lining his features again. “Never let what Claud or people like him say get to you, okay? You’re not just some Niff.”

Prompto leaned away, back straight. His handcuffs clinked. Terreo looked… intense.

“You are - … your kind are martyrs. Marvels of the Empire,” Terreo bowed his head, “Bringing you back – as close as you got with the Lucians? The case that got away?” Terreo’s eyes lit up, his smile wide, “It’s … you’re a researcher’s dream. You can’t _imagine_ , Prompto. What this will mean to the Minister. To the Empire.”

Prompto stared at him. “Why -what the hell does that mean?”

Terreo looked like he was done, like he’d said all was gonna. Prompto watched him lean back, hands behind his head again, and close his eyes.

And, maybe – _“Sorry, dad,”_ he heard him whisper, “ _I get it now._ ”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Insomnia was a massive city. Skyscrapers boxed in every street. At night, the world was a wall of black and silver and bright lights would glimmer until it got real late and the only lights left were the moon and streetlamps.

Gralea was a lot like Insomnia.

But the feel was … wrong.

Prompto kept his eyes down, watched his boots leave prints in the snow. Something about the air in this place – something about the earth. It was wrong.

Terreo and Secor flanked him. Claud lurked nearby, in the shadows of the train car and Fraus stood and waited just outside. The passengers’d cleared out a while ago, blind and deaf to the few cries Prompto managed. Each one shut down, either by a sharp tug on one of his arms or, on the rare occasion Terreo looked away, a whack on the back of the head courtesy of Claud.

It was the five of them, alone. Again.

Claud went tense behind them and shoved himself away from the wall. Prompto watched him nod at the others.

“Fraus signaled?” Secor asked. Claud nodded again.

They walked.

It was snowing again, and hard. Big, fat flakes fell over them.

“He’s here,” Prompto heard Fraus and they caught eyes when the man turned and gestured to him.

They headed toward a lineup. An intimidating one.

Imperial Military – soldiers, Prompto guessed, two of them stood behind a man, this one in military garb that looked a little more official than the soldiers. But something about the soldiers… their eyes.

They were red. And glowing.

Prompto pulled back, but it was weak. Being knocked out five days in a row wasn’t the … worst thing that could’ve happened, probably – like, he coulda died instead or something – but it was enough to weaken his muscles.

The man in the middle nodded and Prompto watched the pair of soldiers march toward them.

They… why did they walk like that?

“Check it,” the man in the middle ordered.

Prompto jerked back when one of the soldiers reached up. Their armored hand looked like a claw and the eyes – those eyes... They – they weren’t – these were … these were those … things. The MTs, right?

He winced when one MT roughly grabbed his right arm and held it up, barcode on display.

“Ow, hey! It’s attached!” Prompto hissed, gripping at the MT’s arm with his free hand.

The MT lifted a device, small and no bigger than a phone but emitting a faint red glow. It ran one end over Prompto’s tattoo and then –

The scanner blinked and turned green.

“Scanning production code,” chimed a feminine voice from the device, “Unit zero-five-nine-five-three-two-three-four confirmed. Warning: this unit has been compromised.”

No.

“What’s going on?” Prompto gaped.

“As promised,” Fraus sang over him, “We’ve upheld our end of the bargain. Lieutenant, if you’d be so kind as to uphold yours?”

The man in the middle – the Lieutenant raised a device of his own. A phone, this time – or at least something like one. He pressed something on it and all at once, four phones chimed with an alert.

“Transfer complete,” the Lieutenant said, pale blue eyes glinting behind his glasses.

“So it is,” Fraus said, sparing a glance to the other men. Secor had his phone in his free hand; Claud had his out as well. Both had satisfied smiles and nodded. “So it is. Then, gentlemen,” he gestured to Prompto, “If you would do the honors?”

Prompto felt the exchange, Secor’s hand leaving him, the MT’s mechanical grip replacing it. Terreo did the same, but he didn’t walk back like Secor did.

“I have a request,” Terreo said.

“No negotiation post-transfer,” the Lieutenant warned.

Terreo shook his head. “I want to escort you to the facility. If possible, I would like to speak with the Minister.”

“He’s a very busy man.”

Terreo held up his keycard, the one with the same barcode Prompto had on his wrist.

“I’m sure he’ll make time for an old friend.”

The Lieutenant was a hard man to read. He considered the keycard, but remained stoic.

“I should like to tag along as well,” Fraus mused, a smile passing from the Lieutenant to Terreo, “One must never deny opportunity when it knocks at the door. A chance to meet the Chief Researcher of your fine Empire? I wouldn’t dream of turning tail – of course, assuming Terreo accepts my company.”

Terreo frowned but bowed his head, “It’s fine.”

The Lieutenant shook his head, but turned and gestured to the MTs holding Prompto.

“Very well.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

One.

Breathe in.

Breathe… in.

Breathe… breathe...

He couldn’t. The bag was too heavy, too dark. Muggy and suffocating. Every time he breathed in, it sucked against his open mouth and he had to push it away with his tongue and his legs weren’t – they were wobbly, he was gonna fall –

“Don’t let it fall.”

The Lieutenant’s barked order cut through Prompto’s mental spiraling. And so did the MT’s pointed metal fingertips digging in through his shirtsleeves.

“It’s been a long time,” Prompto heard Terreo say somewhere to his left, “Maybe not so rough?”

“I don’t tell you how to do your job, hunter. See that you pay me the same respect.”

A pause. A door wooshed open. Prompto hated that sound.

“Or have you forgotten that, despite its appearance, your charge is no mere boy.”

“He’s-”

“An instrument,” the Lieutenant cut Terreo off, “of the Empire.”

They were inside somewhere, if Prompto had to guess. No wind, no snow anymore, but somehow it was colder. Somehow, beyond the thick threads of the heavy bag draped over his head, it was darker.

He couldn’t help it. Every second, like clockwork, the replay of a tin-sounding voice of the scanning device beat in his head like a drum.

_“Unit zero-five-nine-five-three-two-three-four confirmed._

Zero-five... Unit 0595324.

 _Compromised_.

Who was he?

 _What_ was he?

Even through the heavy bag over his head, Prompto could see the glow of their eyes, the MTs. Red. Like a warning light. Thousand-yard stares set straight ahead and seeing nothing.

“Of course,” he heard Terreo agree after a while. Then more quiet except for the clink and clang of MT boots against metal floors. Finally, Terreo asked, “What will you do with him?”

“I will do nothing,” the Lieutenant said, “Minister Besithia will decide what to do with it.”

“The Minister paid a lot to get him back.”

“ _It_ ,” the Lieutenant emphasized, “may have valuable data to uncover.” Didn’t sound like the guy believed it. “However, the Minister is preoccupied at the moment. For the time being, until he is able to return, the unit will remain in a guarded storage facility.”

That sounded… awesome.

Prompto stopped trying to walk a while ago. He let himself be dragged along by the MTs. Even if he hadn’t, he was sure that his legs’d just give out.

It was that movie thing again. Watching it all play out, happening to someone else. This couldn’t be real. It was just too … it was insane.

Prompto wasn’t trying to listen. He eavesdropped with the best of’em, but right now, if he could shut his ears off, he would. And now, wasn’t it just his luck, they wouldn’t shut up.

“Is he..,” Terreo continued, hushed, “Will the Minister try for a repair?”

They stopped, all of them, dead in their tracks. Prompto heard a scanner beep and a door open.

“I believe the Minister may try many things,” the Lieutenant said.

They walked. _Clank, clang, clink_ over the threshold and into a new room that was warm and smelled sterile. Like antiseptic.

Prompto sucked in a breath when someone pulled the bag off his head. He blinked in the lights, dim and fluorescent, gut turning over.

Haloed by the pale glow was a row of soldiers – of MTs, all of them still like statues, eyes aglow. A man stood in front of them, dead center

This guy … the old man – he was the one in charge. No doubt about it.

White hair framed an old face, silver and black and red making up his ensemble. And what a look it was. Not over done or compensating for anything at all– definitely not.

Prompto almost cracked a smile at the thought. And then he almost busted out laughing at the fact he almost smiled. He was in hysterics or something, had to be losing his mind. Instead, his faced twitched in a grimace when he caught the old, in charge dude’s gaze.

Prompto straightened, just a little.

“To think that fortune has christened us once more,” the old man crowed from within the new room.

”Sir,” the Lieutenant chimed, surprised.

“Minister Besithia,” Fraus greeted with a sweeping bow, “It is a pleasure- no. An honor-“

“What the hell is this?” Prompto demanded, cutting Fraus off.

Someone laughed – low and melodic. Prompto’s eyes darted to the Minister, but it wasn’t him. He was focused on something else. Some _one_ , actually.

A man approached them. Tall and smiling, waves of burgundy hair peeked out from under a weathered hat. Draped in layers and layers of bizarre textures, the man kept amber eyes trained on Prompto. He looked out of place – way out of place here, amongst MTs and Ministers and… what was this, a hospital? A.. a laboratory?

“My friend,” he said to the Minister “So the prodigal son has returned.”

The Minister sighed, as if impatient. “Found in the Lucian capital.”

“Amongst Lucian … royalty. If I’m not mistaken?”

“Do you have business here, Chancellor?” The Minister asked as he turned to face the man, “If not, might I inform you I have matters to attend to – without an audience.” He smiled at the man, crooked, “Respectfully, of course.”

“Oh, how I do so wish to attend. I am well aware of when my presence is unwanted,” the man sighed, all theatrics, “Your presence, however, has been requested by His Radiance.”

“Oh?”

The man – the Chancellor bowed his head. “ _’Oh’_ indeed, Minister. He is quite eager to examine the circumstances surrounding our honored guest,” he smiled at Prompto.

Prompto looked away immediately.

“I see. Perhaps His Radiance seeks instead to examine the budget.”

The tall man shrugged, though his lip curled. “The return of your little runaway was a costly effort indeed. Might I suggest, Minister, you offer the Emperor a consolation for his money well spent?”

The Minister raised two fluffy brows into his wrinkled forehead. The Chancellor smiled and continued.

“Near two decades this fine young man has lived in Crown City, much of it spent arm-in-arm with the Lucian Prince.”

Prompto looked up and caught the Chancellor’s eyes. They glimmered – dangerously.

“Maybe,” the Chancellor said, “Said consolation is a victory of morale.”

Prompto was going numb. Every nerve in his body prickled with energy, then simmered out to a fuzz, his brain shrieking _danger, danger, bad bad bad_ every time these people … these Empire people spoke. He looked at the Minister, saw the gears turning in consideration, but consideration of _what?_

Why the hell was he here?!

“Psychological warfare,” the Minister concluded, “A win of propaganda.”

“Ah, my friend,” the Chancellor sighed, head bowed in confirmation, “What say you fill the hole in His Radiance’s pockets with newspapers? A headline, for the ages: _‘The Prince and the Pauper.’_ ”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all... this one was tough. No clue why, but it just did not want to come out the way I wanted it to. Anyway, it's out so here we are. All the fun (sadistic?) stuff is yet to come. Prompto... oh Prompto. Hold onto that sense of humor, kid. You're gonna need it.
> 
> Also, not one trash lord, but two? Trash Jesus? We are truly #blessed.
> 
> I do worry a little, with Ep Ardyn on the horizon, that we may well and truly be delving into AU-land but... heck, I guess we're there no anyway, so. 
> 
> I am usually much better about replying to your comments, so I will be sure to do so moving forward! I blame post-Turkey day food-induced comatose. 
> 
> On a last note, thank you all for reading. Incredible, seriously. Your comments give me SUCH happiness that I squeal like a dork any time I read (or re-read... or re-read) them. Ahhhhhhhhhhh, indeed, friends. Ahhhhhhhhhh indeed. I'm just glad you're enjoying and I sincerely hope that enjoyment lives on. See you all next week!


	5. The Psyche

“That’s him, right?”

Ignis stared at the newspapers in front of him. Dozens of them, a handful laid out flat. Each and every one had the same photo of a blond-haired, blue-eyed teenager who had no business being on the front page.

And the headlines. Those were what really turned his blood cold.

**INFILTRATION! THE HERO OF NIFLHEIM RETURNS!**

**SCANDAL IN INSOMNIA! THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER?**

“Guess we found him,” remarked one of the intelligence officers.

“Should’ve known. Should’ve. All the red flags were there,” said another.

“Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been an assassination plot-“

Ignis left the room, one of the papers in hand. He wouldn’t hear any more of it.

In a quiet, dark office, he closed the door behind him and sat. He smoothed out the paper in his lap and stared down at it.

Prompto’s picture stared back.

“So, what? You gonna tell him or should I?”

Ignis swallowed around the lump in his throat and released his too-tight grip on the newspaper. Gladio stood in the doorway, expression dark – or maybe it was just the shadow of the door.

“I’m not sure I can believe it.”

“You think every newspaper outlet in the Empire’s lying?” Gladio huffed.

“It _is_ the Empire,” he countered.

Gladio frowned and walked into the office, arms folding across his chest. “I know you liked the kid. I did, too. But we have to man up and face it. He played us. You. And me. Noct? He fooled us all.”

Ignis gripped the paper again. “We don’t know that for sure.”

“Iggy…”

“Uh, pardon the interruption.”

Ignis and Gladio glanced to the Crownsguard in the door, her face drained of color. She cleared her throat, “His Highness is –“

“What the hell is going on?”

Noct shoved his way in the room and chucked a paper down on the table. It was a report, classified SECRET, Prompto’s face dead center above a wall of text.

“Noct-“

“Don’t,” he started, navy eyes ablaze as they locked on Ignis, “Just – is he okay? Do we have a location?”

“Ever heard of Niflheim?” Gladio snorted.

“What are we waiting for, then?”

“Noct.”

“It’s not true. You know it’s not, Specs. It’s Prompto,” Noct argued, “ _Prompto._ ”

“Niflheim intelligence officers are trained for clandestine missions-“

“It’s Prompto!” Noct cut Ignis off.

“It is,” Ignis agreed as he stood, Gladiolus at his side, “Which is why we must investigate the matter.”

“You – what, you think he just decided to run away to Niflheim? Look at him!” Noct grabbed the newspaper out of Ignis’ hands, turned it and shoved the picture in their faces, “Look at his eyes!”

Big and blue and… lifeless. Or, at the very least, not what they normally looked like.

“We’re working on it,” Gladio promised. He raised a hand, gently tugged the paper down and away. “We need time.”

“For what?” Noct muttered, a crease between his brows, “What if he needs help?”

Ignis and Gladio exchanged a glance.

“Even _if_ -“

Noct tensed, eyes on Ignis.

“ _If_ ,” Ignis emphasized, pushing his glasses back in place, “Prompto is innocent – he is still held in Gralea, the heart of the Empire.” Ignis closed his eyes in thought. “ _If_ this is not what it appears to be, the probability of a rescue…” He trailed off.

The implication fell heavy over them.

“Step one is finding answers,” Gladio muttered.

“So, what are our options?”

“Our options need the approval of the King,” Ignis said, “Very few come to mind in such a situation, most of them perilous –clandestine infiltration being one.”

“Great, let’s do that,” Noct jumped in.

“It’s never been done before,” Ignis mused, “Not in Gralea.”

“No time like the present.”

“You think the King’ll send in the Glaives without knowing the full story?” Gladio asked, brow raised, “I’ll say it again. We need time- figure out what we know and what we don’t.”

“Yeah. Well, maybe Prompto doesn’t _have_ time,” Noct muttered.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_A week prior –_

Prompto blinked. Was it daytime? Where – what were those lights?

The world was a haze – it seemed like it was a haze more than it wasn’t these days. He looked away from the blinding lights to the figures silhouetted behind them, the cogs in his foggy brain turning.

Cameras? Right. Right – this was a photo shoot.

He’d never really considered modeling before. A doped-up grin tugged at his lips, but disappeared when he felt an arm slide round his shoulder.

There were people beside him, one on either side. One old and one tall – he knew them. How did he know them?

“Will this take very much longer?” asked the older man, annoyed.

“Shouldn’t be ten minutes, Minister. We appreciate your patience,” said someone (the photographer?) behind all those lights.

The Minister – that was the old guy, right ... – puffed out an irritated sigh. Prompto felt the arm draped over his shoulder tighten a little and pull him in closer. He looked up at the Chancellor, brows knit in confusion.

“Th – s’uh – “ his mouth was cotton and lead. Prompto blinked, squeezed his eyes hard. _Come on, mouth, get it together._ “Close,” he croaked.

The Chancellor looked down, surprised, “Ah, so you’ve joined us once more.”

“Arm – your… your arm,” Prompto tried to shrug him off, but it was a pretty pathetic effort. The Chancellor merely pulled him in even closer, fingers giving Prompto’s arm a little squeeze.

“You looked unstable. How could I call myself Chancellor were I to let the Hero of our fine Empire fall on his face? And in front of the cameras, too!” The Chancellor smiled at him, “We have an audience to persuade of your deeds, after all.”

“Minister, Chancellor?” chimed the same behind the cameras guy, “We’re ready for the next round.”

“And final, I hope,” the Minister bit.

“Yes.. of course, yes, sir,” the photographer cleared his throat and eased in behind his camera. The lights seemed to brighten – to burn.

“Smile!” the Chancellor cooed.

Flash! Click – click – flash!

“Excellent, thank you all very much for your time!”

Another voice spoke up, a woman, and the lights started to dim – to go back to normal.

“Everything will be in publication early this week,” she said in a clipped voice. She was dressed smart and tapping away on her phone.

“Very well,” the Minister sighed and turned, “How long do you think, Chancellor, this façade of yours will be played?”

“Patience, my dear friend. We’ve only just begun.”

Prompto’s legs buckled under him, earning him a look from the two men.

“I see,” the Minister said to the Chancellor, brow wrinkled in frustration, “My research is of utmost importance to the success of the Empire.”

“Fear not. Your subject is in safe hands.” Prompto felt the guy’s grip go even _tighter_ it was full on hug now practically. “Our dear guest shall be treated like royalty.”

The Minister didn’t look convinced, but he nodded and went on his way.

Prompto found his voice finally and cleared the cottony-feeling in his throat. He reached up, arms finally cooperating, and pushed at the Chancellor. “Let go.”

“And after all I’ve done for you,” the Chancellor surrendered, “I’m wounded, Prompto.”

“How… how do you know my-”

“Has the Minister left us so soon?”

Prompto looked over – Fraus? And Terreo was coming up behind him. Why were.. .what were they doing here?

“He is indeed a busy man,” the Chancellor mused.

“Of course,” Fraus chimed, “Of course.”

“Looks like the kid’s coming out of it finally,” Terreo said, eyes on Prompto.

Which, yeah, he was – things were getting crisp again. He stumbled back a step or two, rubbed his eyes and opened them to the sight of the three men staring back in amusement.

“What… all this – why are we taking pictures?”

“Photographs,” the Chancellor hummed.

“Whatever! Why?”

“Consider it a compromise of sorts,” he replied.

Prompto stared blankly. “For what?”

“Why, your extensive price-tag, of course.”

He couldn’t help it, he _couldn’t help it,_ he could not – his fingers curled around his right wrist, around the black lines that stood stark against his skin in the harsh studio lighting.

“I don’t… why would they pay for-“

“Must we do this here?” Fraus asked and hesitantly scanned the media people behind them. “Perhaps we provide our charge with his answers somewhere more private?”

“Concerned about your reputation?” Terreo muttered, face grim – but he did lean forward and plant a hand on Prompto’s shoulder.

“No one likes a scene.” Fraus frowned and glanced back, “Chancellor?”

“Sadly, I too have my own affairs to attend to. And you’ve all been on such a long journey, after all. I’d say some rest is well earned by now,” the Chancellor turned away as well and began to walk, “I leave him in your capable hands. I’d remind you, though – I am to be chief advisor until such a time the boy’s released to the Minister’s care.”

“Yes, sir,” Terreo said. Fraus came round the other side of Prompto.

“Wait! Wait just - just hold on … advisor?” Prompto echoed, trying to navigate this conversation – and failing miserably. “And why are they here?”

“Ah. Well, I thought you were familiar. Allow me to enlighten you,” the Chancellor replied, motioning to Terreo and Fraus, “May I introduce the honorable retainers of the Hero of Niflheim,” he gestured to himself with a sweeping bow, “And the Hero’s humble advisor,” he paused and looked up, lip curled, “But you may call me Ardyn.”

 

* * *

 

 

The drive from the photography studio (and under any other circumstances, Prompto woulda been way more into that) was… uncomfortable.

Well, really. Everything was uncomfortable, but – relativity.

Terreo and Fraus’d ushered him out and the three of them climbed into a car, glimmering bright white against the washed out gray streets of Gralea.

And now, they were just sat in the back seat, dead quiet. The driver didn’t even have the radio on.

It was the first time his head was clear in a while. First time without drugs or bags on his head or even – he wasn’t even tied up or anything.

If it weren’t for the gun he knew Terreo kept tucked behind his back, Prompto’d… he’d…

He cleared his throat. “So… photo shoot, huh?” Was that _his_ voice? Really? Keep it cool. Relax.

“Yeah.”

Prompto glanced over, surprised by Terreo’s gruff and, frankly, annoyed grunt.

“A necessary evil, I assure you,” Fraus mused.

“…why?”

Fraus smiled. “Care to elaborate?”

“Why – all this?” Prompto gestured to them, the car – “Kinda an upgrade from… I mean, I guess it’s – I wasn’t expecting … what gives?”

“The Minister paid a lot to get you back,” Terreo leaned back, sank in against the leather upholstery. “He was forced to compromise.”

“It’s not such a bad thing, now is it?” Fraus cut in, “I’m sure Prompto will much prefer our upcoming engagements to whatever the Minister had planned for him.”

“ _Has_ planned,” Terreo corrected, “This is a dog’n pony show. It’s ridiculous. Kid’s not some ‘It Girl’ poster-boy, he’s better than that. A soldier. Something with purpose.”

“But why not enjoy a life of celebrity in the meantime?” Fraus countered.

“Wait! Damn it,” Prompto bit, flushing, “I’m right here – don’t talk about me like I’m not sitting right between you.”

The both looked at him, brows raised.

“What the hell are you two even talking about? I just – give me a straight answer.”

The city rolled by outside, mounds of snow pushed out of the narrow street. There were few if any other cars on the roads. Not like Insomnia – not at all.

“Right,” Terreo said, closing his eyes, “Well, the compromise – when it’s over you’ll be back under the care of the Minister.” He sounded frustrated, “But til then I guess your… return’s a sort of strategic PR win.”

“Meaning?”

“The boy who befriended the prince,” Fraus sighed dreamily, “The lad from Niflheim who carried the secrets of Lucis home with him.”

Prompto felt all his blood drain from his face and pool in his toes.

“.. _what?_ ”

“Or, at least,” Fraus looked thoughtful, “That’s the story the media will weave.”

_“What?”_

“It won’t take too long,” Terreo added, more to himself than Prompto, “They just want word to get to the Lucians. Once it does, this whole thing’ll be over and we can get to work.”

Prompto felt clear minded, crisp, up til now.

“What’s … what’s the point of that kind of...” – _story, lies, bullshit_ \- “...thing getting to Insomnia?”

Fraus looked over, a twinkle in his eyes. “Propaganda is a powerful weapon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is indeed short, but expect another chapter before the end of the week.
> 
> KEEP COMMENTING! I looooooooooooooooooove your comments like a drug, my dear friends.


	6. A Stately Affair

Two-hundred and sixty... two hundred and ...and sixty....

Prompto squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the blur away. He opened them, stared at the ceiling, and scowled.

He’d lost his count.

He counted the bricks overhead at least a billion times by now. Okay, exaggeration, but not like there was much else to do in the barren little room. Four walls, one door, and two MTs standing guard right outside. Not exactly five-star accommodations.

_Knock knock_.

He didn’t bother sitting up or replying. No point. He was gonna come in anyway.

Prompto’s lip curled when the lock clicked and the door creaked open.

“Hey kid,” Terreo greeted while pulling a small device from his pocket, “How’re those wrists?”

“You need something?” Prompto bit, glare hard on the ceiling.

“Woah, hostile.” Terreo smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked down at the device, small, black and metallic, and pushed a button. It shined blue, the glow bright in the dim room. “I know it’s gotta be frustrating.”

“Understatement.”

Terreo motioned at him, grabbed his arm with his free hand. “Fair enough. But you’ll get to stretch your legs soon. Comes with the PR territory.” He pressed the device to Prompto’s wrist, pressed the button again, and they both fell silent as it dinged once.

Prompto sucked in a breath, the black bars on his wrist shimmering white for a second...two… and then back to normal, like nothing happened.

“What-”

“Insurance,” Terreo answered, nodding just a touch when the blue glow went green. “Looks like we’re good to go.”

Prompto ran his fingers over the brand. It didn’t… hurt or anything, but it never glowed like that before.

“What’d you do?”

Terreo slid off the bed, slipped the scanner in his pocket and started for the door. “We weren’t sure it’d work, but it was worth a shot. Fraus didn’t think ropes and handcuffs’d go with your outfit,” he trailed off in a laugh at the image that conjured. “You’re not like the rest of’em, but we’ll manage. Just a little extra security.”

“For what?” Prompto sat fully upright, muscles tense and eyes on the hulking blond as he stalked toward the door.

Terreo paused, glanced back. “Look. I’m not exactly thrilled with it either, but the Chancellor really sold the Emperor on this whole hero thing. They’re playing it up. Big time.”

“...and?”

“And you’ve got some social obligations to live up to because of it. Hope you like parties.” Terreo turned again and started through the door.

“Great- so what the hell was this, then?” Prompto held up his wrist, flashed his barcode. “Last I checked, tattoos don’t light up.”

“Tomorrow night. This state event of yours,” Terreo scowled at the floor, “MTs’ll be around the perimeter, every few feet, with one of these,” he patted the pocket with the scanner and looked up, eyes narrow and features half in shadow. “You try anything cute and… well, it’s got two settings. One’s a warning.”

A beat of silence. Prompto inched forward, on the edge of the bed. “And the other?”

“Code Red.”

They caught eyes.

“You don’t want to know,” he added. “Anyway, Fraus’ll be by sometime tomorrow to play dress up. Be good. Be patient, kid,” Terreo shrugged and walked out.

Prompto stared at the door long after it closed behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

“Gold would be too loud, don’t you think? With that hair of yours… too much. Yes, I think so.”

Prompto frowned at the swath of fabric in his face. Shiny. He didn't _do_ shiny. Or sparkly. Or any of the other crap Fraus filled up the little room with. He sulked in the center of a ring of full length mirrors, Fraus somewhere beyond currently thumbing through a mix of deep red and bright silver clothing. Definitely a far cry from the stark blacks worn in Lucis.

Fraus tore his gaze from the fabrics and glanced to Prompto. “Well?”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” he muttered.

Fraus huffed, a hand on either hip. “Well you _should_ care. It’s your debut, after all.”

Prompto scoffed, “Debut?”

“Indeed.” Fraus turned back to the clothes, expression tight. “Black, perhaps. With accents. Subtlety is an art, after all.”

Prompto watched a little longer, fingers running through his sleek, tamed hair. Fraus’d worked some kind of makeover magic. Prompto wondered what kind of hunt the guy picked that particular skill up on.

He looked down at his wrist again, barcode on display. Terreo’s warning flit through his mind. They obviously didn’t trust him enough to let him roam totally free, so why expect him to put on a nice face? He turned when Fraus waved him over, gaze falling to the jewelry.

_Jewelry._

“No.”

“Oh, come now,” Fraus sighed, “We are trying to present-”

“I don’t give a damn what you’re trying to present!” Prompto barked, a well of untapped fury bubbling at his fingertips. Frustrated, he raked his hands through his hair again.

“Calm down,” Fraus set him with a look, features dark, “You know how long it took to get that to sit right.” He leaned forward, gently took one of Prompto’s hands while the other smoothed out the tousled locks once more. “Can’t have you looking a mess.”

“Better that than whatever kinda wuss you’re tryin’ to make me look like.”

Prompto sucked in a breath, eyes watering at the pain shooting up from his wrist where Fraus' fingers caught their sudden and vicious hold. Fraus glared at him, narrowed eyes pinning him like daggers.

“Behave,” Fraus hissed dangerously, “This debut is not yours alone.”

Prompto parted his lips, mouth agape. He’d never seen Fraus… angry. Not like this. This was something else. Something … new.

Fraus released him and turned back to the fabrics, the air heavy. Suffocating.

“The black one, I think,” Fraus decided after a while.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Elegant and sharp-angled chandeliers glimmered above the hall, red and gold and silver swathing the extravagant sight from floor to ceiling. Music, none like he’d heard before, filled the air - a soft and delicate piano sang over the ominous, creeping hum of strings and the low timber of horns - a musical embodiment of the Empire. Lovely and beautiful, but deadly on a whim. The crowd within was every bit as ornate. Fancy people in fancier clothes.

Prompto peeked out around Terreo and Fraus a little longer before glancing down at himself. The ensemble was ... something. A stark black suit under a bright white overcoat, all of it accented in bold crimson and shining gold. He flicked at the golden belt hugging his waist and frowned at the little _“tink”_ it made. His free hand fidgeted with his tamed, too silky hair.

“Prompto, would you please control yourself,” Fraus sighed, reaching over and gently (this time, at least) swatting his hand away from his hair.  “Leave it be.” Satisfied, he moved on to straightening the clothes a little, grooming here and there.

“Relax,” Terreo muttered, “Kid looks fine.”

“We aren’t going for ' _fine._ ' We’re going for refined,” Fraus muttered.

“Guess you found your calling,” Terreo answered with a smirk.

“Well, doesn’t he look ravishing.”

They all glanced over, the Chancellor appearing from the shadowed end of the corridor wearing a … not quite smile. It was something in his amber eyes, amusement or something, as he studied Prompto who shifted under the intensity of it.

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Fraus beamed, “It wasn’t easy, I assure you.”

“No?” Ardyn mused, lip curled, “Even with such a fine canvas?”

Terreo cleared his throat. “Security is all squared away.”

Finally, _finally,_ Ardyn glanced over to them and away from Prompto. He released his breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Such good news,” he looked back to Prompto who immediately tensed, “I’m sure you’ve been informed of the evening’s expectations?”

“You mean threatened?” Prompto grunted, “Yeah. Sure.”

“More like warned,” Terreo cut in.

“A little of both,” Ardyn mused. He leaned in and took Prompto’s right hand between his, lip twitching up at the palpable tension. “This has been explained to you, I hope?” he ran his thumbs over the golden bracelet that covered Prompto’s barcode. “Think of it as… a leash, perhaps.”

Prompto gaped, flush spilling to his cheeks and promptly draining. He stepped back, barely, but enough to tug his hand away a little. Ardyn’s hold kept firm for a few beats too long… _too long, let go. Let go._

Ardyn released him and turned to the others, arms sweeping in a grand gesture.

“Well, then,” he hummed, “Shall we?”

Prompto went stock still as Ardyn’s hand set on the small of his back. Just the barest pressure and they were walking forward, his steps shocky and mechanical. Terreo and Fraus followed close behind.

Suddenly they were bathed in light, out from the hallway and into the hall. They stood on display at the top of a grand staircase, white marble draped in the same deep colors as everything else in sight. Hundreds of eyes turned to them, locked on. Behind delicate, gloved hands the crowd whispered, in awe or disdain, in judgement or admiration, their gazes burning a hole in Prompto.

“Citizens of Niflheim,” boomed the Chancellor’s melodious voice, “It is my great honor to introduce to you the Hero of the Imperial Empire.” He stepped aside and turned to Prompto. “Prompto of House Besithia!”

They caught eyes, Prompto’s wide and horrified, Ardyn’s sparkling in mirth. The Chancellor bowed deeply, all theatrics.

The crowd erupted, polite cheers bleeding into raucous applause. Prompto tore his gaze from Ardyn and let it sweep over the crowd. They were a picture of ignorant elegance, blissfully unaware - or maybe just uncaring and detached from the hell their government rained down throughout Eos.

And Prompto… he was from here. He was one of them.

Noct’s face flashed in his mind. Noct had to deal with this all the time - the crowds, the attention.

And here was Prompto, a twisted mirror version. He was nothing like Noct. He was the furthest thing from a King or a Prince.

He was a pawn.

A puppet.

Ardyn was talking, at least Prompto thought he heard him through the static fog in his brain. He snapped back to reality when Terreo and Fraus stepped forward, the two of them gratefully soaking up some of the cold spotlight.

“- retainers,” he heard Ardyn say when his ears started working again, “Fraus Vanus. Terreo Amentia. Our hero’s lance and shield.”

Cheers again, the applause fading back to a sophisticated politeness.

“With the blessing of the Astrals,” Prompto looked over to the Chancellor as the man spoke, a chill shooting up his spine at Ardyn’s crooked, vicious smile, “may the festivities commence!”

And so they did.

The crowd dispersed, music starting again the wake of the speech. Cliques formed, people flocking to food or drink or to the center of the hall to dance or mingle.

Ardyn turned to face the trio, expression pleasant, a slotted mask after the aberrant flash of … whatever it was Prompto’d been lucky enough to witness.

“Well then, gentlemen. Might I advise you join our guests?”

“Politely, of course,” Fraus said with a pointed glance at Prompto.

“Unless dear Prompto is a glutton for punishment, of course,” Ardyn mused.

Right. Security. The MTs.

Prompto turned aside and surveyed the room. Sure enough, there they were, still as statues and creepy as ever. MTs lined the perimeter, each one meters away from the next and each one holding a device that looked suspiciously similar to the one Terreo used on his barcode.

Up til this point, he hadn’t thought of escape. Everything else had just been so… much.

But now, though …

He thought there’d be a wall of MTs. Instead - well, sure, there were a few of them but they were sparse and there were gaps. Prompto was … small-ish. If he wanted, he could usually disappear into a crowd no problem, parse through it and slide out unnoticed. But now wasn’t ‘usually.’ He wasn’t ‘usually’ decked out in flashy clothes or ‘debuted’ to the public.

Still though, he couldn’t just not try anything. Not when this was the first time in over a week he had full use of his arms and legs.

“Alright, now, come. Let us engage,” Fraus chimed

“You mean schmooze,” Terreo muttered, shooting Prompto a grin.

Prompto snapped out of his thoughts, eyes darting toward them. Apparently, Ardyn was gone, off in the crowd somewhere since he didn’t see him. Without much choice, he moved along with Fraus and Terreo toward a group of especially looking rich people. The small section they occupied was removed from the rest behind velvet ropes and guards of their very own. Had to be VIPs, people of importance in the Empire’s culture - whatever that meant.

Fraus seemed to know which way he was going as he expertly guided them through the throng of wealth. A few of them offered greetings, tried to stop for conversation, but Fraus was a man on a mission, Prompto and Terreo merely along for the ride.

Apparently they found their mark as everyone came to a halt except for Fraus who motioned to an older couple, a man and woman. Silver haired and immaculately dressed, they looked every bit as regal as King Regis the few times Prompto’d seen him.They turned toward the trio with warm smiles on their faces.

“My, we weren’t expecting to see you so soon!” said the woman, a kind crinkle in her green eyes when they set on Prompto. She took up one of his hands, “You’re so young, dear. I hadn’t realized.”

“Dulcia, collect yourself,” the man scolded, but without bite.His ice-blue eyes set on Prompto “Please forgive my wife,” he said as he retrieved her hand from Prompto’s.

“O-oh” Prompto squeaked, “No, it’s fine!”

The man smiled and bowed his head, reverent. “Caldor Pietas,” he introduced himself, “And my wife, Dulcia. It is quite a joy to meet someone like you, young Prompto.”

“The pleasure is ours,” Fraus answered for him - something he was grateful for. How was he supposed to response to someone _bowing_ at him? Fraus continued, “Your family name and reputation needs no introduction, Chairman Pietas. And, my lady, the media does not do you justice!”

Prompto glanced toward Fraus. _Man, layin’ it on kinda thick there…_

Terreo offered the couple a polite nod and not much else.

“Such a charming retainer!” Mrs. Pietas cooed softly with a wink at Prompto who blushed and looked at his shoes.

“Mr. Vanus,” Mr. Pietas greeted Fraus in return, taking his hand when offered.”Mr. Amentia,” he nodded to Terreo, “You two must be quite pleased.”

Terreo gave Fraus the side eye, expression grim. “Oh, you’ve got no idea.”

“Prompto, you musn’t be a day over sixteen.”

Prompto glanced to Mrrs. Pietas, still pink-cheeked and sheepish, “Uh, I … just turned eighteen.”

“Eighteen,” she echoed, awed.

Prompto shifted his weight and glanced from her to Fraus who’d taken Mr. Pietas off for a sidebar conversation. Well, looked like Terreo’d been right on the money when it came to the whole schmoozing thing. He looked back to Mrs. Pietas.

She - her and her husband were … unexpectedly kind. With the whole rich-people thing… not to mention the whole big-shots in the Imperial Empire thing, he’d expected… well. Not this. Not kind smiles and genuine interest in him, not the way Mrs. Pietas was currently proudly talking about her son, a little older than Prompto, whom they hadn’t seen in some months since he’d gone on to do big things with the Imperial Army.

Their pride, the love of their home and of those who served it… Prompto couldn’t help but picture Ignis. Gladio. The Kingsglaive and the Crownsguard, the few he’d seen on the rare occasion he visited the Citadel. He imagined Noct - he imagined the black banners of Insomnia, the excitement on days of celebration or at festivals.

These two, at least, were the same.

“-and those poor missing people, isn’t that right, dear?”

Prompto blinked, snapping back to reality. “Oh, um… what? Sorry...”

Mrs. Pietas shook her head, “Of course, you mightn’t have heard. That’s what our boy Fero was sent to do. He mentioned it when last he took time to phone us,” she sighed sadly, “Prompto, dear, I know this is terribly rude of me so soon, but may I ask you a favor?”

“Uh - oh, well, I …” Prompto trailed off, fidgeting. Not like he didn’t want to help her, but he wasn’t exactly in the driver’s seat of his life at the moment. Still, her face - she looked so earnest… “I can… I’ll try. I mean, I’ll do what I can, Mrs. Pietas, sure.”

The old woman positively glowed. Prompto’s heart melted a little. He wondered if he had a grandmother out there somewhere - and if he did, he wondered if she’d be like Mrs. Pietas. He hoped so.

“Oh, thank you. Truly,” she chimed, “If you should ever run into him, perhaps on a base or at some military function … if you could encourage Fero to call his father and I …”

“Consider it done.” Prompto blinked and blushed his own eagerness. “If… if I ever meet him, that is - I will. I promise.”

“Pardon me there, ma’am. It’s good to see you again,” came a low voice.

Prompto and Mrs. Pietas both glanced over to the man. He stood short, maybe a head below Prompto, long blond hair tied in a knot atop his head and dark eyes neatly hidden behind shaded glasses. Like everyone within sight, he was dressed sharp, a white pinstripe suit and covered in bejeweled accessories Prompto couldn’t afford in this lifetime or the next.

“Mind if I cut in?” he continued, thumbing at Prompto.

“Not at all. I suppose I should be getting back to Caldor,” she turned to Prompto, “And I have certainly taken enough of your time, dear Prompto. Thank you again for your kindness. I hope we are able to meet again.”

“Me - me too, it was nice meeting you, Mrs. Pietas!”

She gave a dainty wave, a sweet smile, and wandered off.

Prompto wished, as he looked at the short man, that maybe she would've stayed. There was something about the guy, like a vibe coming off him in waves. Prompto fussed with the bracelet around his wrist and waited.

“So you’re it, is that right?” the man asked. Prompto couldn’t quite see behind the glasses, but he knew the guy was sizing him up.

He laughed, short and awkward. “Uh, yeah. Guess so.”

The man whistled and shook his head. “Damn shame.”

“..uh-”

“Name’s Pravus,” the man offered, finally, while extending a hand and wearing a toothy grin, “Pravus Minatio. It’s an absolute pleasure, son.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm late. But with good(?) reason! 
> 
> There I was, Monday afternoon, half a chapter ready to go with only a little more to tack on til it's Wednesday ready. Lo and behold, I spill a splash of water, just a splash. Just a bit. No biggie, no big deal.
> 
> Except it's a macbook air. And the splash lands in the one, single point of failure that's the absolute worst. Kill shot, if you will. Trick shot.
> 
> Anyway, the computer's fried, I didn't back up that part of the chapter like a genius, so I had to get a new comp AND learn to start using a cloud-based word processor. So, I'm doing those now, hooray! And, on the plus side, I've got a pc now, so yippe for that! 
> 
> Anyway, i do apologize for being a little late! 
> 
> I'm diggin' the direction we're going. And I'm ab-so-luuuutely delighted we're getting a little Niflheim Prince!Prompto - or at least a version of him. 
> 
> Needless to say, he's modeled after  
>  [Pigeon Princess Prince!Prompto Outfit](http://pigeon-princess.tumblr.com/post/160803862202/niflheim-prince-prompto-au-where-he-was-taken-in)  
> Though mind you, Prom in our story is two years younger. Same look, though, more or less.
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, the best is yet to come, my poor dears.  
> Please pardon any typos! I wanted to get this out. I'll go back and clean. We may not be quite back on schedule for next week, but I'll try to make it work :)
> 
> Comment or roast, whatever floats your boat!  
> Or I'll send trash Jesus after you >: )
> 
> Thanks again for your patience and see y'all next week!!!


	7. Fluster

“Minatio?” Prompto echoed. The name was familiar, but he couldn't remember where he heard it before. Pravus nodded, eyes flicking to his unmet handshake. “Oh! Prom-Prompto,” he blurted, taking the guy’s hand and giving it a polite shake.

“Of House Besithia,” Pravus mocked the Chancellor’s honeyed way of speaking with a smirk. He withdrew his hand and stuffed both in his pockets.  

Right. House Besithia. - That’s what Ardyn said earlier. Prompto didn’t know what to make of it, really. Why link him up with the Chief Researcher? Status symbol or something?

He tried for a smile, crooked and awkward, and cleared his throat. “So, uh. Something I can help you with?”

“Not anymore I don’t reckon,” Pravus sighed, but shifted his gaze to something behind Prompto.”Looks like the boys really struck gold with you, son.”

Prompto fidgeted with the hem of his coat as he glanced over his shoulder. There was Fraus a little ways off smack in the middle of a group of partygoers. They all laughed at something he said and Fraus smiled wide, looking smug. Prompto rolled his eyes - the guy was reeeally laying it on thick - and glanced back to Pravus.

“What, you mean their new friends?” he muttered.

Pravus nodded again, smiling despite his obvious distaste. “Fraus there’s got a bad habit of climbing the ladder if you catch my drift.”

Prompto did catch his - hold on. He paused, confused.

“Wait, you know him?”

“Acquaintances.” Pravus reconsidered, “Co-workers, actually.”

Prompto narrowed his eyes. “He doesn’t exactly have an office job, last I checked.”

“Perceptive little thing, ain’tcha?”

Prompto’s glare made Pravus smile wider. The man slid off his sunglasses and tucked them from his button up, dark eyes studious as ever. It was the same way Prompto examined a camera before picking one out. It made his skin crawl.

“Okay, great. Well... Wait a second. Minatio,” he trailed off, memories shooting off rapid fire, “You … you’re the..,” he pointed at the shorter man, “ _You’re_ the bounty guy?”

“Hey, we’re in polite company, son,” Pravus laughed, strained and voice low. He leaned back, eyes hard, “That’s more of a… entrepreneurial side gig.”

“Oh, I’m _sure_ ,” Prompto seethed, hands fisted at his side.

“You’re looking at the President of MINA Corp. Passed down from my daddy and my daddy’s daddy. I’ll take it you’ve never been to one of our clubs,” he looked disappointed.

“You son of a bitch,” Prompto hissed, “All of this is _your fault_.”

“Shush- relax, son,” Pravus warned quietly, frowning at the heads turning toward them. He grimaced and slipped an arm around Prompto’s shoulder, led them both off to a more private corner of the VIP section.

“This is all...,” Prompto pulled at the jacket, at the fancy clothes and jewelry, one hand grabbing at his stupid, silky hair, “it’s all because you-“ Suddenly, he stopped dead, trembling like a leaf in the wind. He turned sharp and rounded furiously on the man.

“You put the bounty on Noct,” he said, deadly quiet.

Pravus blinked in surprise. “Ah, the prince. That’s right,” he agreed. “Almost forgot about that.”

Prompto fumed at him, a growl caught in his throat.

“Kid’s gonna be a tough nut to crack,” Pravus mused, “what with all the hyped up security.”

Prompto went slack jawed. “You’re… still going after him?”

“Hm?” Pravus glanced back, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Prompto’s mouth went dry, his skin clammy. He’d been overheating just two seconds ago, weighed down by the stuffy, expensive clothes. Now, though, his blood was frozen, every inch of him stinging bitterly. He’d been beat up, drugged, stuffed in a box, kidnapped- he never said a damn word about Noct, not a freaking peep. He ended up _here_ dressed up and paraded around, and this guy was _still_ gonna…

“I mean, you weren’t exactly on my radar, son,” Pravus sounded regretful. He tilted his head a little, that surveying look back, “Not that I couldnt’a made some serious cash off of you, though”

“You can’t.”

“Obviously,” Pravus snorted, “You’re in the limelight right now, not sure that’d go over so good with the higher ups-“

“ _No_ ,” Prompto hissed, leaning into the guy’s personal space. He grabbed hold of his suit jacket and dragged him in, “Noct. Leave him alone.”

Pravus swatted at his hand, subtle but enough to brush him off. He glared up at Prompto, amusement flickering across his face as he brushed off the lapels of his jacket.

“They might have you prancing around like some prize chocobo on parade, but your threats don’t carry a whole lotta weight son,” he sneered, “And as for your little prince friend?”

Prompto tensed.

“Let’s just say he won’t be getting the red carpet treatment you did.” Pravus patted Prompto’s shoulder, lip curled. “In fact, he’ll be looking more like a stuck pig.”

Prompto saw red. He lurched forward in fury, fist heading straight for the bastard’s smug face - -

\- Prompto stopped dead, dropping to his knees with a sharp cry of pain. He writhed on the floor, a scalding hot burn shooting like acid through his veins. He seized, forgetting Pravus, forgetting the room and the party and everything except for the blinding, white light flashing behind his eyelids and pain that knocked the breath out of him.

Their little corner was quickly blocked off by a wall of MTs, one of them pointing the device at Prompto’s prone figure, thumb on the trigger. Terreo burst through them, Fraus not far behind. When he got a glimpse of the scene, Fraus turned back to usher the few nearby partygoers elsewhere.

Terreo stared down at Prompto, body twitching on the cold marble floor, face scrunched up and tears gathering on his lashes. He glanced to Pravus, the other man watching just as intently but with a hint of a smile.

“What happened?” Terreo asked, grim-faced and voice as low as he could manage.

“He got his feathers a bit ruffled is all. Then the muscle showed up,” he nodded toward the MTs, again smoothing out his wrinkled jacket, “Boy’s got no manners, Terri.”

Terreo looked back down.

Prompto clutched at his clothes and tugged like he was trying to tear into them, life they were suffocating him. His cries faded into choked little gasps, desperate for breath.

Terreo took the device from the MT and turned it off.

Prompto collapsed into an unmoving heap in expensive clothes sprawled on an expensive floor. Sputtering, weak breaths brushed past his lips and sweat glimmered on his scrunched up brow.

“Sorry about the trouble, Mr. Minatio,” Terreo said, “It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t,” Pravus huffed. He folded his arms across his chest, turned, and disappeared past the MTs.

 

* * *

 

 

Prompto counted the stones overhead at least a billion times by now.

Wait - Déjà vu.

He squeezed his eyes hard, reaching to rub at them but… his hand didn’t really move. His fingers twitched, but that was about it. He sucked in a sharp breath, body shuddering, and it all came rushing back in one big wave.

The party. The device. His skin prickled and tingled, but Prompto managed to struggle his way up til he was sitting, back flush against the wall and bleary eyes scanning the room til they landed on Terreo who sat at the side of his bed.

Terreo scowled back at him, arms across his chest, toe tapping a disjointed rhythm.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” he growled.

Prompto closed his eyes and leaned back in exhaustion as opposed to any kind of shame because he actually _was_ proud. Someone bad-mouthed his friend - they full on _threatened_ Noct. and he… okay, well, Prompto didn't exactly get a swing in, but he’d meant to before that stupid device…

He shifted, fingers brushing against his clothes. He was still in the same fancy outfit as before, but now it was just a little more wrinkled. He couldn’t’ve been out of it too long.

“This attitude of yours ain’t gonna fly,” Terreo continued when he received no response, “I told you not to try anything cute.”

“The guy’s a creep,” Prompto muttered, wincing at how raspy his voice sounded.

“A powerful one,” Terreo bit back.

“I don’t care.”

They glared at each other until Terreo finally leaned back in defeat and sighed. Small victory, but Prompto’d take it.

“Look.”

Prompto stubbornly did not look, gaze suddenly trained on his blanket’s fascinating patterns.

“I get it. What you did was stupid. But… it took guts. I can admire that.”

Prompto couldn’t help it. His eyes flickered to Terreo curiously, lingered there when he noticed the guy’s earnest expression.

“You know a thing or two about loyalty,” Terreo continued, “They may have raised you, but that place…Lucis. It was never really your home.” Terreo leaned in, everything about him exuding a solid warmth that somehow chilled Prompto to the bone. “You belong here.”

“You’re wrong,” Prompto countered immediately.

“I’m not,” Terreo replied, a sad smile tugging at his lips, “It’s in your blood.”

“Loathe as I am to interrupt such a tender moment, I would like to have a word.”

They both glanced toward the door in surprise, neither having heard it open. Ardyn stood there, silhouetted by the pale hallway lights behind him.

“Yes, sir,” Terreo said and eased himself up. He grabbed the chair to move it away, but Ardyn held up a hand to stop him, amber eyes flicking to Prompto.

“With him.”

Prompto’s aching muscles somehow managed to tense.

Terreo frowned but let go of the chair and left it at the side of his bed. “Of course, Chancellor.”

He turned, started out the door past Ardyn, but stopped short when addressed.

“Consider yourself relieved for the evening, Mr. Amentia,” Ardyn offered, “I’ll be sure to keep our guest under watchful guard.”

Prompto watched Terreo linger in the doorway, just past the threshold, shoulders rigid. He offered no answer aside from a curt nod and then the hulking blond was gone.

And they were alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short one, but once again, I was having computer issues. At long last, I've settled on a little chromebook and so far so good so much of this was written at work... oops. 
> 
> I'm delighted by the reaction this is getting and even more delighted by your comments, so thank you all so much for sticking around. I'd LIKE to get back to a normal schedule, so once I get back on track I'll provide an update as to what that is!
> 
> Also... that tumblr purge. Brutal, man.


	8. Fake News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** WARNING:  
> Offensive language & homophobic trolling in the following chapter. Intent was to emulate language found on the internet, namely in comment sections and select online forums.

Ardyn eased into the chair beside the bed. He’d left the door open. Small mercies.

And then… they sat. Prompto stared at Ardyn and Ardyn stared back, both of them holding the other’s gaze until the blond finally looked away in discomfort.

What was with this guy? Were all higher ups in the government weirdos?

In Lucis - okay, sure. They were kinda weird… but more like special-weird. In a good way. Like Iggy who was freakishly well put together no matter the time of day or Gladio with his insane strength and stamina.

Not weird in like… this skin crawl-y, silent observation-y way.

“Uh...so. You wanted to talk?” Prompto tried, eyes hesitantly flicking up to the man.

Ardyn smiled at him and removed his hat.

“How are you feeling? That was quite the punishment you took earlier.”

“Super.”

Ardyn raised a brow.

“Been better,” Prompto amended.

“And worse, I would imagine.”

Prompto plucked at the loose threads on his blanket. “I guess.”

Ardyn crossed his legs, hands laced together and set on his lap.

“You’re quite lucky the device was at its warning setting. That was a mere slap on the wrist,” Ardyn mused, “Chief Besithia was adamant we apply the higher setting.”

“Code Red?” Prompto asked, frowning at the Chancellor’s nod.

“The very same,” Ardyn confirmed, “However, in light of your poor behavior, it seems Verstael will have his way.”

“What-”

“Really, Prompto,” Ardyn cut him off, a dramatic sigh brushing past his lips, “You should be thanking me. Our dear Chief nearly convinced the Emperor to hand you over following this whole debacle. If not for my intervention, you’d have been torn from the spotlight prematurely.”

“So?” Prompto muttered. Not like he cared - in fact, it sounded great to him. Fame and fortune weren’t really on his bucket list - especially not in the Empire.

“Such spirit,” Ardyn hummed in amusement, “You’d prefer Chief Besithia’s company to mine? I suppose it’s to be expected. Apple doesn’t fall far, is it.”

Prompto watched him, falling silent and connecting the dots into a picture that was more abstract than anything remotely coherent.

“And yet, here we are.”

“I don’t … understand.”

“A feeling you’re accustomed to, I’d wager,” Ardyn hummed.

Prompto's cheeks blossomed red. He scowled. “What's the Empire getting out of all this?"

“Out of what, specifically?”

“This... this propaganda thing. Noct’s my friend, I get that, but all this is gonna do...  He’ll hate me. Great. I don’t see what you get out of it.”

“Me?” Ardyn looked affronted but for the tiny twitch of his lips, “My reward is the pleasure of your company.” He raised his hands in surrender when Prompto glared at him. “Oh, I’m only teasing. Here.” He retrieved something from his pocket. 

A phone. The glow practically lit up the room for how dim it was in here. What, were they trying to save on the electric bill or something?

Prompto looked down when Ardyn set the phone in his lap. An article, posted only minutes ago, from _The Crown City Star_ stared up at him along with a big fat headline, bold and black, that made his heart sink to his gut.

 

 

> **TRAITOR’S REWARD: EMPIRE CELEBRATES RETURN OF SPY** **  
> ** _(Published by The Crown City Star @ 21:46)_
> 
>  

And there, under the declaration, was a picture. Him and Mrs. Pietas. Him with a big smile, laughing. Like he was happy. To be here. Like he _wanted_ to be.

He stared at the picture for what felt like days before finally dragging his eyes down to the text.

 

 

> _“The startling and unprecedented tale of betrayal in Lucis continues to unfold. The Crown City Star learned earlier this evening of an event within Gralea, capital city of the Imperial Empire, celebrating the return of the agent involved in what is sure to be Insomnia’s most notorious incident of espionage in recent years, and perhaps the Kingdom’s history. Once a close friend of His Highness Prince Noctis, Prompto Argentum, 18, was welcomed with open arms to an extravagant gala on Saturday evening-”_

 

He stopped dead, the words blurring into nonsense, a single sentence ringing in his head like an alarm.

_Once a close friend of Prince Noctis._

_Once a close friend._

_Once a friend of-_

“I really must recommend you read some of the comments,” Ardyn cut through his thoughts like a knife, “People never cease to amaze. Such passionate creativity.”

He shouldn’t look. He knew he shouldn’t… 

 

 

> _“do we still have death penalty?? bring it BACK”_
> 
> _“evil scum. hope it dies”_
> 
> _“anytime anyone asks me about niff immigrants in the city show them @ this. &@#$ing niff garbage” _

 

There were more. Lots more. The article’d been up maybe ten minutes.

“Why, I’d say you’re something of a household name by now,” Ardyn said. He retrieved his phone.

Prompto sat there, still as stone and numb. He stared at where the phone’d been as if the blank space was still shining accusations up at him. Not even accusations. Condemnation. They’d already passed judgement.

And, really. It looked bad. It really did.

Who’d believe him?

_I was kidnapped! I’m not a spy! I’m a Lucian!_

_But there I am, in Empire gear at some big fancy party. Smiling._

Prompto gripped the blanket, clung to it like he might float away if he let go.

“You’ve certainly caused quite the uproar in Insomnia,” Ardyn continued, eyes on the phone and scrolling boredly, “The state of security - oh, I’m sure you can just imagine. And my, the young Prince. He must be beside himself.”

Noct…

Prompto gripped the blanket hard enough his knuckles went white. He couldn’t breath, lungs malfunctioning. His eyes burned, but felt desert dry, heart drumming furiously in his chest.

Gods, what must Noct… what he must be feeling…? Seeing Prompto like that? Smiling, _smiling_ , why was he _smiling_ while he was here - while this … while…

Prompto choked out a breath, raspy, like a cry or a sob - he wasn’t sure and didn’t care. One hand flew to his chest and he clutched at it, fingers clinging to the silken, lavish clothes.

Now came the tears, stinging as they gathered in his eyes and blurred the world away.

He hadn’t… really cried. Not this whole time. Maybe from physical pain, sure, but this was… this … this was ...

He would _never_ do this to Noct.

But… he might as well’ve.

Prompto bowed his head, the tears not falling - not yet. He couldn’t cry here. He couldn’t. He _could not cry here._

And then a hand, gentle but firm - two hands, now, were on him. One on his shoulder, the other between his shoulder-blades, rubbing gently up and down. The bed dipped under new weight. And warmth, like the sun, of a body beside his, big and tall and strange, _foreign, unfamiliar, what-_

“You poor child,” cooed Ardyn, his whisper like thunder in Prompto’s ear.

 

* * *

 

Noct counted the swirls in the ceiling at least a billion times by now.

He was getting sick of being cooped up in here - real sick of it. He rolled onto his side, eyes on his bedroom door flanked by not one, not two, but _three_ Glaives. Glaives. As if they didn’t have anything better to do than babysit him.

Wasn’t like there was much to do in here. All the good stuff was at his apartment. Here in the Citadel... he’d played games - every game he could think of, but solo it was just…

It wasn’t the same.

Ever since he managed to get his hands on that initial intelligence report a few days ago, Noct’d been carefully quarantined far, far away from the intelligence officers and their workspace.

 _“Need to know only. Sorry, Highness,”_ someone told him.

Yeah, well.

It was Prompto. So he needed to know.

Noct sighed and rolled the other way, huddled in against the back of the couch. This should a welcome break after such a long day. Home schooling under Ignis’ tutelage was… intense. Not to mention, he wasn’t even close to getting in the school day naps he normally would.

Actually, he hadn’t been able to sleep much at all. First time ‘Prince of Insomnia’ was ever fitting.

Bleary eyed and trying to sleep through sheer force of will, Noct frowned when his phone pinged with an alert. Stupid thing. He thought he shut off news updates. He leaned aside and pulled his phone from his pocket, squinting at the blue glow when he finally got hold of it.

Oh. Right. Yeah, he shut off news alerts - with one exception. 

 

 

> **TRAITOR’S REWARD: EMPIRE CELEBRATES RETURN OF SPY** **  
> ** _(Published by The Crown City Star @ 21:46)_

 

Noct sprang up, held onto the phone like a lifeline, and opened the article, all while ignoring a rush of indignant fury at the headline.

His heart skipped when the picture came up. A crop of bright sunny blond hair, clothes saturated  red, white and gold, and a small, but familiar smile that made him forget how to breath.

Prompto was okay. He was alive.

Noct stared at the picture a while longer, like a dying man to water. Normally he’d be embarrassed, maybe a little flush at just staring at a picture of his best friend, but now wasn’t _normally_ and he didn’t care. He hadn’t seen Prompto in over a week now, closer to two, and the one picture from before… the professional shot from that report - Prompto’d looked so… not Prompto.

Here, though, and now. It was him.

Smoothed down hair that looked dangerously soft to touch (Noct would make fun of him later for it) and looking a little skinnier than usual, Prompto was decked out in a way that was… just… well, he looked regal. Which was… weird. Not two words Noct’d put together: Prompto and Regal. But… it wasn’t a bad thing.

“Cleans up good,” Noct teased in a whisper to himself, dark eyes drifting up from the fine clothes to that smile.

Which made his heart flip simultaneously in a good and bad way.

After a long, long while staring at the picture, Noct finally turned to the article itself. 

 

 

> _“The startling and unprecedented tale of betrayal in Lucis continues to unfold. The Crown City Star learned earlier this evening of an event within Gralea, capital city of the Imperial Empire, celebrating the return of the agent involved in what is sure to be Insomnia’s most notorious incident of espionage in recent years, and perhaps the Kingdom’s history. Once a close friend of His Highness Prince Noctis, Prompto Argentum, 18, was welcomed with open arms to an extravagant gala on Saturday evening-”_

“Still friends” Noct muttered, He kept reading.

 

 

> _“-evening. The event drew a small yet elite crowd of Niflheim’s top influencers. Argentum, revealed this evening to be of unknown relation to Imperial Chief Researcher Verstael Besithia, is pictured above with Mrs. Dulcia Pietas, wife of Chairman Caldor Pietas of the MAGITEK International Outreach Foundation (MIOF)._
> 
> _A veritable who’s who of Niflheim, similar guests walked the red carpet in celebration of an astounding feat of espionage, a practice Niflheim has utilized in the past. Argentum-Besithia basked in a cold spotlight atop a grand staircase, his debut into Niflheim society announced by Imperial Chancellor Izunia._
> 
> _While in Lucis, Argentum-Besithia attended school with and befriended His Highness Prince Noctis, both of whom were scheduled to graduate in the coming year. Speculation of Argentum-Besithia’s mission revolves around his relationship with the Prince. Since discovery of the plot three days ago, analysts so far have assessed that detailed profiles on the Prince and his close associates may have been the intended end goal - at best._
> 
> _As this breaking story continues to unfold, the impact of the insider threat has already been felt within city walls notably including a significant increase in border and interior Crownsguard security presence. In addition, refugees and immigrants in Insomnia’s Immigrant District are rumored to be undergoing re-investigation regarding citizenship and asylum documentation._
> 
> _The Crown City Star is honored to be Insomnia’s number one source of timely and balanced news. We thank you for your continued patronage._

 

It… this was like reading about someone else. Some other life. Some political celebrity gossip or something. Not about Prompto. No way. It.. was just too surreal.

But there he was in the picture. Prompto and some old rich lady, laughing it up.

He re-read it two more times, sometimes slowing down to process phrases like they were in another language. It just… it looked bad. It really did.

But it didn’t make any sense.

They - he and Prompto never really talked politics - or about Noct’s dad, not really. Maybe he’d complain some new rule or duty or mention his dad’s health sometimes - and Prompto’d be concerned and say _“Man. I’m sorry, Noct - I hope he’s feelin’ better soon.”_

They never talked state meetings or engagements with foreign liaison aside from Noct groaning about them and how he’d rather play video games and eat garbage  or do literally anything else and Prompto’d smile and say, _“That blows. But - hey! Someone’s gotta show’em how to do it. Just - Dude! Maybe it’s like those RPGs! Like - when the meeting’s over you get a ton of XP and you come out all badass and plus 500 intellect or something.”_

Actually, to be honest, Prompto’d make a pretty crappy spy. All the times Ignis would be going over a report, Prompto’d be sitting there with headphones on or playing King’s Knight, or just flat out asleep on the sofa.

So, yeah.

Noct made the dire mistake of scrolling down to the comments section, maybe just a little desperate for any more info about the party or Prompto.

Yeah. Nothing useful. It was just a cesspool down there. It took everything in him not to throw his phone against the wall hard enough to break it.

The party happened tonight - maybe it was still happening right this second. This was… weird. Normally it was the other way around, Noct at some big stupid event, dressed up in an expensive suit, schmoozing and making nice with ‘high society.’ But now - that was Prompto and meanwhile, Noct sat at home on his couch, bored and wishing his best friend was here.

Was this what Prompto felt like all those times?

Noct searched the internet on the event, pulled up some other pictures of it (no new articles yet). Some close up shots, some far away - jeeze, that was really some outfit he was wearing. And his hair - Prompto normally wore it kinda smooth like that (except for when it stuck up like a Chocobo butt), but this was - it was so _shiny_.

"That smile" (Noct was calling it) wasn’t present in the other pictures which… he was guiltily glad to notice. Just … the way “ that smile” looked - it just hit Noct hard, like maybe … maybe there was some truth scattered around in there in that article. In the reports.

So, yeah. Guilt ate at him while he thumbed through the new pictures because Prompto looked in no way comfortable in most of them. Definitely not smiling.

So maybe that old lady was just really nice or something.

The pictures would be boring under any other circumstances. Noct’d been to a million parties like this himself. But here he was, moving through these like a schoolgirl with a celebrity crush.

Then he came to one picture and paused, the mixed up storm of emotions zeroing in on one.

Or maybe two.

Anger. And … something that made him feel a little green. Like he wanted to hit someone.

Some… _guy_ had his hands on Prompto. Okay, so it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. The man was tall, dressed in dark layers like he didn’t really belong there among all the white and gold. His flyaway auburn hair peeked out from under an old hat.

And his gloved hand sat _low_ on the small of Prompto’s back dangerously close to the … curve...of…

Well, whatever. The guy was too handsy was the point. And they were too close together. The angle was off, showing a sort of rear-profile, but it was enough to get an idea.

What really got him though was the smirk - hard to see and barely there, but it was enough. He couldn’t make out Prompto’s face.

Okay. Time to do some digging.

Noct spent a good hour scouring the internet, mostly the mainstream stuff just to see. Most news sites had the same picture of Prompto and the lady, the headlines seeming to get wors and worse and more and more damning. No new information, though.

So, he went for the forums, scrolled through them til his eyes burned.

Tons of threads about the party - Prompto - a few speculating about Noct’s and his… um, “relationship.” The word ‘honey pot’ showed up enough to redden his cheeks a little.

Noct straightened a little and clicked on one that might have potential. 

 

 

> **f*ck u lucians - pics@gralea**
> 
>  

Noct frowned at the title, but OP posted a picture of the party he hadn’t seen anywhere yet - and it looked damn convincing. He scrolled through.

 

 

> _anon832597: die niff f*g_
> 
> _anon528974: kys OP_
> 
> _anon96462: you actually at the party?_
> 
> _anon20931: kill argentum for me_
> 
> **_OP87643_ ** _: @96462 yes_
> 
> _anon458371: pics or gtfo_
> 
> _anon112230: p*ssy_
> 
> _anon5993: more pics OP?_
> 
> _anon96462: anything interesting?_
> 
> **_OP87643_ ** _: [img1] [img2] [img3]_
> 
> _anon9576444: would smash_
> 
> _anon89532: argentum a trap?_
> 
> **_OP87643_ ** _: hero boy gone - some sshady sh*t happened_
> 
> _anon582798: getting f*cked by emperor probably kek_
> 
> _anon9576444: would still smash_
> 
> _anon9982: dp_
> 
> _anon3564221: @OP what happened?_
> 
> **_OP87643_ ** _: looked like seizure. couldn’t see in VIP section_
> 
> _anon57833: virgin OP thinks bj = seizure_
> 
> _anon349800: F*CK NIFFS REEEEEEEEEEEE_

 

No more posts from OP and the rest was just more garbage. Noct scrolled up again to the three pictures, probably taken on OP’s phone. Not blurry, but not even close to professional quality. One showed a far away Prompto talking to a shorter man looking annoyed - almost angry.  

The other two showed him with two guys, both taller than Prompto by a lot - maybe Gladio-tall. One with a blond ponytail and the other with darker hair. They looked… honestly, they looked like hired muscle. Bodyguards or something, especially the blond guy.

It was the third picture, though, of him with the two guys that caught Noct’s attention. It was hard to tell from the quality, but Prompto looked out of it - _way_ out of it, barely conscious. His eyes were open, two glimmers of blue, and he was kind of standing or leaning against the guy. But behind the row MTs blocking the shot, it looked like the blond guy was practically dragging Prompto out through a door.

Which was, simply put, more than a little suspicious.

Noct frowned at the explanation of what happened, heart fluttering at the idea of Prompto seizing up so bad he had to be taken away. He’d never seen Prompto have one before, but then that dug up a whole bunch of … reasons as to what could cause him to.

Stress?

Maybe… a bad reaction to something? Maybe they-

Movement at the door stopped Noct mid-spiral, though he couldn’t help but frown at Ignis as he entered past the Glaives.

Spec’s looked … he must’ve seen the article.

“A moment, Noct?”

“Yeah?” Noct turned to face him and slipped his phone in his pocket, a movement Ignis did not miss.

“I take it you’ve seen the news.”

Noct bowed his head. “Yeah.”

“In light of this week’s..revelations, the King thinks it would be wise for us to speak with an interrogator.”

Noct glanced up at that, surprised. “He think I’m a spy now, too?”

“Considering your lack of suspicious newspaper articles, I don’t believe so, no.”

“Media gets it wrong,” Noct bit back, “Not like they know everything.”

“Nor do we,” Ignis mused, arms folding cross his chest. “I understand how you must be feeling. This ordeal has been a difficult for us all.”

“Yeah,” Noct laughed grimly, “Especially since it’s fake.”

“Noct..”

“I know what it looks like. It’s bad. I know,” Noct muttered, “But I’m telling you, there’s more to it. Prompto’s not like that - he wouldn’t do this.”

Ignis held his gaze a few moments, the silence between them a little too heavy - a little too unfamiliar. He walked over, sat beside Noct, and looked at him.

“Coming to terms when betrayed by a fri-”

“Look,” Noct cut him off, flustered by the annoyingly well-meaning, concerned look on Spec’s face, “I get - I know, it looks bad, but just - I found pictures.”

Ignis looked unimpressed, “The articles-”

“No,” Noct bit while tugging his phone from his pocket and pulling up the images from the forum, “No - these.” He pulled up the first one, _annoyed Prompto & shorty _, and turned the screen. “See?”

Ignis’ flicked his eyes up from the screen after a few seconds, still unimpressed,  “That could be-”

“Okay - then, this one. Look,” Noct turned the screen again, this time the one of blond guy dragging Prompto off. Noct watched Iggy’s face, watched his brows knit in that calculating way, his lips press to a thin line in thought.

No reply. Yeah, that’s what he thought.

“There’s a ton of pictures out there and only one of him smiling,” Noct argued.

Ignis looked up from the phone, finally, still calculating. “Niflheim’s culture is strict. Militaristic. Perhaps his stoicism is merely adherence to proper etiquette.”

They both made a face, Ignis trailing off. Prompto and etiquette - not exactly the first word they’d associate with the blond.

“Fine. Okay, then. What about being dragged off?” Noct muttered “That part of their culture, too?

Ignis made a face, but flicked his gaze down to the phone. This photo was framed by a row MTs while in the previous picture they’d been in the background lining the walls. Prompto and the man beside him - their pose was unnatural. It was difficult to make out, the quality of the photograph lacking, but when zoomed in - even though Prompto’s face was slack, even though his eyes were hooded and sleepy…

He looked to be in pain.

Despite everything, Ignis found he didn’t like that very much at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a Christmas miracle! Happy holidays y'all and enjoy some fresh angst served up from Santa's workshop.
> 
> Internet trolls get a lump of coal from Shiva.


	9. Runaway

Maybe it always snowed in Niflheim. It was strange. When the snow settled and swelled into white blankets that covered the streets it didn’t reflect light the same way it did in Insomnia. It was muted. He wasn’t sure.

He just knew it was cold and that the heat blowing through the vents wasn’t enough.

Prompto pressed his forehead against the cool glass window and tried to watch individual snowflakes as they fell. It was a welcome distraction from the uncomfortable silence he started associating with these car rides. It was an even better distraction from thinking about other … uh, things.

Like crying on the Imperial Chancellor’s shoulder, for one.

He felt the creep of a blush spilling in his cheeks. Just a little, but it was enough to make him feel warmer. But not, like, a good warm.

So awkward. He shouldn’t’ve done that. He definitely didn’t mean to cry, but when he read the article and saw the pictures and then there was that unfamiliar but disturbingly gentle presence of another human being offering comfort it just … it was more than he could take. It all just kinda crept up on him.

And anyway, it wasn’t like he ever really had a literal shoulder to cry on before. Not that he could remember.

Prompto was sure Noct’d let him … that  Noct’d be a shoulder to cry on. It just never really came up. Thankfully, ‘cause if it was this embarassing with a stranger, he couldn’t imagine how it’d be with Noct. He felt himself blush harder. 

Well, anyway… Noct  _ would  _ have let him. Before all this.

Now, though? Who knew.

The city rolled by the same way it had the first time they drove through it. Tall buildings disappeared into low, grey clouds, and loomed over streets empty of cars but full of tired people commuting to work.

And there, like a shadow up in the sky and not at all intimidating, was their destination.

Zegnautus Keep. 

Man, the Empire was all about appearances. 

Prompto’s embarrassment disappeared into the growing pit in his stomach that got deeper the longer he stared at the marvel in the sky. 

The Emperor was up there. Prompto was going to meet head of the Empire, the leader of Niflheim, Imperial Emperor Iedolas Aldercapt, face to face.

No biggie. 

He set a hand on his stomach as if that would keep him from throwing up all over the car’s white-leather upholstery, fingers curling into his clothes. Today’s outfit was no less extravagant than the one he wore last night. The long coat was uncomfortable enough to walk in, but sitting in it without wrinkling (and hopefully avoiding a lecture from a pissed Fraus) was a challenge. The ivory suit underneath were even more constricting. He spent half the car ride tugging at the snug shirt collar. And to finish it all off, of course, glimmering rubies encased in shiny gold.  

“You okay?” 

Prompto glanced over to meet Terreo’s concerned face. 

“You look a little pale,” the man finished.

“I dunno, dude,” Prompto muttered, “Maybe it’s ‘cause I’m about to meet the final boss?”

Terreo raised a brow. Prompto huffed and crossed his arms.

“Like… like a video game. Leader of the bad guys? That’s final boss material.” 

“Bad guys?” Terreo gave him the once over with a faint smirk, “Might wanna look in a mirror, kid.”

Prompto tightened his fingers on his sleeves. 

“Besides,” Terreo added turning to look out the window, “We’re not the bad guys, here.”

“Right,” Prompto muttered, eyes flicking to his wrist. “Good guys don’t tattoo barcodes on their own people like produce in a grocery store. “

“Yeah,” Terreo agreed thoughtfully, “We don’t. Not people.”

Prompto looked over as something shot through him, cold and creeping. 

He didn’t say anything for the rest of the trip. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

One hallway after another, this place just kept going like a tunnel with no light at the end. 

Prompto, sandwiched between Terreo and Fraus, followed their very official looking, no-nonsense guide down the sterile hall. Just like his new accomodations, the Keep wasn’t particularly well lit except for the few hazy fixtures overhead. 

Prompto made the mistake of being nosy. Head on a swivel, he peered down every hall and corridor they passed. And then there was this one in particular that was... it was creepy. Like a prison or something, though he didn’t see anyone behind the bars. Or any _ thing _ . 

Finally, they ended up somewhere important - it had to be if all the big white and red banners were anything to go by or the MTs standing guard. 

“Look sharp,” Fraus whispered and leaned into Prompto a little, “We’re in the presence of royalty.”

As if Prompto hadn’t been best friends with the prince of Lucis. But this wasn’t Noct. Not even close. 

Prompto swallowed, eyes front. 

Their guide motioned to the MT closest to the enormous door. A beep and a flicker from red to green later, the doors swept open.

And it was...weird.

Really the only way to put it.

Where the Citadel radiated elegance and regality, all marble and gold and black, the Keep and the throne room within were technology personified. It was still grand, still regal, but in a blinking and beeping kind of way. Completely impersonal, like any component could be pulled out and replaced without anyone noticing.

Still, that was just the room.

The people in it were a whole other story.

And Prompto thought  _ his  _ clothes were fancy.

There, perched on the throne, was the big man himself. Silver haired with sharp features and lavish robes, everything about the Emperor accentuated his pale blue eyes that instantly pinned Prompto in place. But it wasn’t him who spoke first.

“Ah, so punctual.” 

_ Of course _ , Prompto snapped his gaze to an amused looking Ardyn he only now noticed. Next to him was the research guy, too. Yeah, well this was just gonna be a swell time.

“Your radiance,” Fraus bowed. 

Terreo inclined his head in similar deference and offered a polite, “Highness.”

Prompto kept his hands clasped together in front of him, eyes anywhere but the Imperial big wigs or the actual freaking Emperor of the whole place. Was this really life right now?

It felt like forever ago that he’d barely squeaked out a hello while meeting Noct’s dad - uh, the King, that is. How was he supposed to do this? There was no comforting presence at his back this time. He had no relation to this guy, this Emperor who wanted that very same King’s head on a platter.

Oh. Okay, yeah. Bad train of thought. 

Prompto pressed his hands against his stomach, eyes on his shoes. Throwing up here would probably get him a front row seat to finding out what Code Red meant. 

“This is the boy?” 

Well, the Emperor didn’t sound mad, so… chalk up a win?

Maybe not - Fraus straightened up beside him and Prompto felt the holes his ‘retainer’s’ glare burned in him. 

“Indeed. Strapping young thing, no?” Ardyn hummed, seeming to take this whole thing a lot more lightly than anyone else in the room. 

“The Minister has made a most convincing argument, Chancellor,” said the Emperor, faint but somehow undoubtedly commanding, “Dysfunctional, was it?” 

Prompto flicked his eyes up, saw the tail end of the Chief researcher guy’s nod. Besithia, he remembered. 

“Utterly, your Grace. We’ve discussed at length last evening’s faux pas,” Chief Besithia turned his head, similarly ice-blue eyes piercing through Prompto in a way he’d never been looked at before. He…  didn’t think so, anyway. “I foresee only further embarrassment for our glorious Empire if this facade carries on any longer.”

“Come now, we are all privy to your ulterior motivations here,” Ardyn glanced to the Minister, lip curling, “The black mark in your records come home at last,” he smiled. “The possibilities for research must be limitless - and so tantalizing! The one that got away. Nay, Minister?”

Prompto watched them and physically flinched when they caught eyes with each other. If looks could kill ...

A few beats of silence hung over them. Prompto glanced at the Emperor, the deceivingly delicate-looking man stroking his chin and pensive. 

“News has reached Insomnia, has it not?” he asked finally. 

The pit in Prompto’s gut got a little deeper.

“It has,” Ardyn confirmed, “It seems our simple dinner party has made quite the splash.”

“Then…?” The emperor gestured at him and the Chancellor continued.

“One ripple does not a wall crumble,” Ardyn mused, “but it does erode.”

The Chancellor hummed to himself and turned, his familiar amber eyes darting to Prompto. 

Prompto sucked in a breath, went a little red as last night’s crying session slammed back into him like a freight train. And again that bad warmth prickled at his skin. 

“The King of Lucis is nothing if not generous,” Ardyn pressed on what felt like centuries later, eyes again on the Emperor, “To a fault, one might say. Insomnia boasts a large population of immigrants, many whom hail from our dear Empire. Our pebble,” he gestured at Prompto, “has wreaked havoc regarding relations between our lost lambs and Lucian natives.” He inclined his head, just a touch, “I propose we throw our pebble again. Perhaps the wall need not be penetrated if instead we act from within.”

Prompto’s heart sped up a little. He stared at the man, like his words were physically manifested above his head.

“A coup,” the Emperor voiced Prompto’s nightmare aloud.

“Ah,” Ardyn chimed with a smile, melodic and light and amused as ever, “A revolution.”  

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh, you’re right on time, dear! Come in, please. Make yourselves comfortable.”

Prompto struggled to tear his eyes from the insane entryway. It was … like, he’d been to Noct’s place before, and the Citadel  _ very  _ briefly, but this was someone’s home. Their house and it was fancy.  _ Really _ fancy.

“Thanks,” he offered, hyper conscious of getting as much dirt off his shoes as possible.

“Thank you for your generous invitation, Mrs. Pietas,” Fraus mused from beside Prompto where he was stuck like glue.

“Absolutely, it’s my pleasure. I must apologize for the late notice, but I’m so glad you were able to make it for dinner. I truly enjoyed our time together last weekend.”

Mrs. Pietas gently took hold of Prompto and began the guided tour of their mansion.

He’d lost count of how many rooms they’d been to when they finally settled in a lounge, no less lavish than the rest of the house. 

“There, on the mantle, Prompto.”

He blinked and glanced over where Mrs. Pietas was looking. A few framed photographs sat atop the mantle of a ridiculously large white fireplace. One of them showed Mr. Pietas shaking hands with someone important-looking. Another had to be a picture of their wedding. Dead center were two more photographs, one of their family. The last was a single, professional portrait of their son, if Prompto had to guess. He … he kinda looked like-

“He looks a bit like you, doesn’t he?” Mrs. Pietas voiced his thoughts aloud, fondness in every word. “That’s our Fero in his uniform just after graduating from the Imperial Officer’s Academy.”

Sure enough, the serious-looking blond in the photo stared back at Prompto with blue eyes. He was maybe a little older than Prompto was, maybe 20, but definitely more … mature or something. Looked kinda high strung. It wouldn’t be a far cry from the other Imperial soldiers he’d met so far.

“Dinner is prepared whenever you and your guest are ready, Madame.”

Prompto glanced over at the same time as Mrs. Pietas toward the butler. They had an actual, real life butler.

But… to be fair, wasn’t Ignis kinda… 

Prompto’s lip twitched. He smiled and lowered his head, stifling the snicker as they all stood and made way for dinner.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you alright, dear? You’re awfully quiet.”

Prompto glanced up to Mrs. Pietas and plastered on a smile. “Oh, yeah. Sorry - thank you for having me for dinner, Mrs. Pietas, this is really good.” He scooped up another spoonful of soup and made a show of digging into it.

The food was good. It just wasn’t good enough to silence the conversation that’d been on replay in his head since yesterday.

_ Revolution. A coup. _

And it was his fault, all of it. Who’d ever at a Niff living in Lucis again without thinking that maybe they’re a spy?

Mrs. Pietas smiled and took a sip of her wine. “Well, I do appreciate you taking up our invitation. I know your schedule must be terribly busy, but I so enjoyed our time at the event. I’m only sorry Caldor wasn’t able to join us. Such are the woes of a Chairman.”

Prompto managed a half-hearted laugh. Mrs. Pietas turned to the butler nearby and motioned for a refill. 

Prompto couldn't stay here. He had to get home and warn them somehow. He had to get out.

But how?

Prompto watched the butler return, a bottle of wine in his hands that probably cost twice what his apartment was worth. Near the same doorway was Fraus, sulking and looking bored out of his mind while idly browsing through his phone. He’d tried engaging with Mrs. Pietas, but she’d been practically locked onto Prompto since they’d arrived.

But… no Terreo tonight. And no MTs.

This was the least guarded he’d been in a long time. A real long time.

This would probably it, his last shot in a while, right? 

“Uh, can - is there a, uh, restroom?” he started, growing a tad flush when Mrs. Pietas looked over in surprise. 

“Oh, yes, of course. It’s just through there, fourth door on your left,” she gestured to the hallway and glanced to the butler, “Moenus, if you’d be a dear and show him?”

“Of course, Madame.” 

“Thanks,” Prompto answered. He stood and made way toward the Moenus, a pang of guilt hitting him when he walked past Mrs. Pietas. He hated to do this here and now, of all places. She’d been nothing but kind and warm and here he was about to take advantage of that.

Man, he was really living up to that ‘traitor’ title, huh.

But it was for Lucis. It was for Noct. He didn’t have a choice.

Moenus pointed him toward the restroom. Prompto thanked him and made way down the hall. 

Prompto slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Then he locked it and turned.

Boom. Big fat window right there, just like he’d guessed. He found himself glad they were on the first floor, not that it would’ve made a difference. He hurried toward it and searched for the latch. This place wasn’t on lockdown and it wasn’t like there were bars on the window or anything. Honestly, he was suspicious. It seemed too easy. 

But… then, it’d been a week and he hadn’t tried anything. If their guard was down, he wasn’t gonna let the chance slip by.

Prompto pushed outward, the double window opening to crisp, cold night air. It was still snowing (he wondered if it ever stopped). He wasn’t exactly dressed for the weather but it didn’t matter. Wasn’t like he could wander around Gralea in these clothes for long anyway. 

He climbed out, careful of snagging anything on the snow-covered bushes below, and closed the window behind him. 

Too easy. This was too easy. Which made put him on hyper alert because it was just  _ too easy.  _

Up ahead was the big, giant fence they’d driven through to get on the estate, armed security walking it every so often. The gateway obviously wasn’t an option, not with a spotlight and two guards posted out front.

So, scaling a wall time. He could do this. 

He waited, skin prickling with more than just the cold. He didn’t have long; they’d be wondering where he went soon.  

The security guard walked past again in the other direction. Prompto snapped his eyes down that way. It looked like the guy was doing a patrol, back and forth. Prompto’d have time to make it when the guard circled back. He’d just have to bust ass and sprint. 

He waited and watched while holding his breath. The guy stood near the end of his patrol path and boredly scanned the horizon. He yawned, then turned and started back.

Prompto shot out of the bushes and ran as fast as his legs would go. 

The guard was walking, just out the corner of his eye. Prompto was halfway to the wall - almost - just about.

He made it. He scrambled, fingers groping around for leverage along the coarse stones. One, two - he pulled himself up til his hands got hold on the top. His arms shook, but he sucked in a breath and heaved his way over. One leg, then the other.

He was up. He was over.

And he was down.

Prompto dropped down on the other side without ceremony and landed on a quiet, tree-lined street. 

And he ran. He didn’t know which way, didn’t know where the path would take him. He just ran away. Far away.

He was blocks away when he finally heard the sirens whining in the distance. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Okay. First things first. Prompto tugged at his fancy clothes. He’d already ditched the overcoat, but everything else would still stand out. There was too much gold and too many jewels. No matter how much they were probably worth, he doubted he could pawn any of it off. He didn’t know Gralea like he did back home - who could be trusted and who couldn’t. It was too risky.

Still, he couldn’t wear this stuff for long. It wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. 

He wandered through the streets and kept to alleys. This area was way more urban than the neighborhood the Pietas’ lived in. It’d been easy enough to dodge the streetlamps and security cameras in their residential block. For a luxurious, gated in community he’d found a whole lot of vulnerabilities. 

Now, though, he was back in the city. There were people everywhere, crowds and cameras and military police practically every other block. Prompto was sneaky, but there was only so much a guy could do while dressed in what he was sure were designer clothes. Not to mention, his face was practically plastered on every newspaper or magazine he happened to get a glimpse of. 

His current alley was between a restaurant, if that pungent smell told him anything, and what he guessed was a block of apartments. The dumpsters were overflowing, one with foods scraps and the other with just a bunch of miscellaneous garbage. Prompto made his way to the latter and pried the lid open. 

And immediately gagged at the smell.

With a grimace, he pressed on. He kept it open with one hand, the other foraging through to look for anything remotely resembling clothing. There was a pair of worn looking high heels (that’s a pass) - some diapers. There, in the back, was a garbage bag full of something soft-looking. He tugged it forward and pried it open, breaking into a full grin. 

Jackpot. 

Not being particularly picky, he dug through the bag of old clothes for anything that might fit. Almost everything was too big for him, enough that he’d be swimming in them. At least he could layer up. 

When he had everything he needed, Prompto hurriedly stripped out of the fancy ensemble and tugged down a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. The sneakers were too big, but a hundred times more comfortable than the shoes he’d been wearing. Last touch was an old baseball cap and boom, he was good to go.

He balled up the outfit he’d been wearing in a way he was sure would give Fraus an aneurism, shoved all of it in the bag, and chucked the whole thing back in the dumpster.

These clothes weren’t much better against the frigid winter wind, but hey. Beggars can’t be choosers, right? 

Prompto hugged himself in against the cold and slipped out onto the street, blending in without missing a beat. 

Step one checked off the list. Now it was time to find a place to hole up and strategize.

Prompto stood off to the side just in time to narrowly avoid getting run over by a stampede of guys about his age, a small group of them who had  _ definitely  _ tied back a few too many. He watched the four of them wander past, arms slung over each other. 

Damn. He wanted to get home.

He turned his attention to the rest of the block. It had to be a pretty nice neighborhood if the stores and restaurants lining the street were anything to go by. He didn’t recognize any of them - apparently franchises in Lucis didn’t extend beyond and vice versa - but they all definitely looked pricy. 

So, he needed to find somewhere a little less nice. A place to blend in.

He wandered a while, weaving in and out of alleys. There were a ton of MPs everywhere. Gralea was definitely a military state if he ever heard of one.

Prompto turned and the road led into a place he’d been looking for. Divy, questionable storefronts, half of which were barred up and closed, stood as far as the eye could see. A few people were huddled up here and there on stoops and in doorways clutching worn blankets and even more threadbare clothes.

He’d be okay here, probably. There weren’t any MPs around like in the nicer part of the city. He just needed time to figure it out. How to get out of the city and how to get home. He’d been KO’d for most of the trip on the way over, but he knew it involved boats at least, so that was a start. 

A woman came stumbling out from a door a little ways up, laughing and clinging to a man whose league she was  _ way  _ out of. 

Prompto knit his brows and wandered over. If the deep bass rumbling from inside and the big, intimidating muscle out front said anything, it was that this place was a club.

He got closer out of curiosity. He’d never been to one - like, he only just turned 18, but they were always kind of fascinating. He and Noct had joked about it once or twice, but the whole thing just kinda seemed dumb - kinda seedy. Like a waste of money and time and stuff. If Prompto wanted to pick up girls, he’d do it the old fashioned way: awkwardly. 

Well, not that he’d ever gotten that far with any girl, but… 

Okay, man. Time and place. So not the place. Or the time.

“Hey.”

Prompto practically jumped out of his skin, eyes darting to the  _ massive  _ bouncer standing a few feet over.

“Uh… hey. Sorry.” 

The man raised a brow, thick arms folded across his chest.

“What’re you doin out here, kid? Not a great neighborhood to be wandering around in.” The man trailed off, but there was something in his voice, an uptick at the end of it that implied something Prompto couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He shrugged, as nonchalant as he could possibly manage, and shot a bored look at the club and the blueish neon sign hanging over it.  _ The Reactor _ . 

“Just lookin’ for a place to hang out.”

Mostly true.

“Yeah?” the bouncer asked, “How old’re you anyway?”

“Just turned eighteen.”

“That right?”

Prompto’s gut clenched at his tone, like there was something… he didn’t know, suggestive about it? But he managed a strained smile. 

“Well, in that case,” the bouncer leaned over and pulled open the door, “Happy birthday.”

Prompto shifted his weight from one foot to the other, mulling it over. He was cold. Really cold, actually. It couldn’t hurt to just warm up for a few, figure things out and all that kinda stuff. He could probably hide out in a corner, get some feeling back in his fingers and then, bang, back out on the road. 

“Thanks,” he said with a nod and walked in.

It was dark and muggy inside, lights flashing from green to pink to blue and purple. There were people everywhere, all of them bathed in the neon glow and dancing or drinking or...uh, being… “intimate.” Prompto shimmied around the mass of bodies, looking for anywhere to just sit, just for a second.

In the back he found a dark booth near a wall of black curtains that looked empty and welcoming enough that he slid in and hunched over to think. 

He was in Gralea. He wasn’t sure how he got into the city, but he had to get out, get to the ocean, and make way back to Insomnia. So… there was a boat involved. He’d need directions. And money.

Prompto frowned when a man sat in the booth beside him, far enough away that it was…. Well, no, it was still totally uncomfortable. The guy was on the other end, but still close enough that every muscle in Prompto’s body stood tense.

The guy was red-haired, definitely a little wasted, and had his head bowed. 

And then he looked over and Prompto sucked in a breath.

“Oh… holy shit,” the guy muttered, eyes growing wide. “No shit.”

“... Claud?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! 
> 
> So first of all, thank you for your awwwwesome comments! Some of you are so flippin perceptive hah. But I'm really happy you guys are enjoying it!
> 
> Anyway, here's to 2019! May the river of angst forever flow!


	10. Red Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Adult content & themes this chapter including some non-consensual touching.

Prompto stared at Claud, mouth agape.

His face was almost as red as his hair, eyes glazed over in drunkenness. Claud leaned in and stared at Prompto’s face, searching.

“Well if it ain’t the little super star,” he breathed making Prompto gag on the heavy scent of alcohol, “Lucky me.”

Prompto plugged his nose with one hand, the other tugging down on his hat to hide himself as much as possible. Claud was three sheets to the wind - hell, more like 30 sheets to the wind. Maybe he wouldn’t remember this..?

“What brings you to a place like this, princess?” Claud pressed. He furrowed his brows when Prompto started scooting out the booth, moving away. His hand shot out, fingers curling hard around a slender wrist. “Not so fast, sweetheart.”

“Let go,” Prompto bit.

Claud snorted, loud, and dragged him in, Prompto’s eyes growing wide as he wriggled and tried to shake him off.

“Day I let one of you tell me what to do’s the day I die.”

Prompto shrank under his leer. He grabbed at the guy’s arm and tried to tug him off but the grip was iron.

“Let _go_!”

Claud pushed up Prompto’s sleeve, blurred eyes zeroing in on the barcode.

“You’re lower’n Niffs, ya know that?. Lower’n dirt,” he mumbled, running his thumb over the stark black lines. “Not even human. No one’d care if I ... “

He wasn’t making any sense, but Prompto’s gut still coiled like it wanted to climb out his throat.

Prompto’s every thought died and his brain short circuited as Claud’s free hand cupped his face and slithered round to the back of his neck.

Claud suddenly, sharply pulled him in, lips pressing slobbery kisses against his neck.

This was not happening. There was no way this was happening.

Prompto was stone, a block of ice and his heart a fluttering bird in his chest.

Claud’s fingers were claws at the back of his neck. They were too close together, Prompto’s wide blue eyes could only see tufts of scraggly red hair. He could feel the heat from his body, could feel Claud’s nose digging into his skin and his hot breath and wet lips moving against his jawline.

Suddenly, he was ripped away, tugged back by his shirt and practically falling out of the booth.

Claud, flush and haphazard, looked just as blearily surprised - and a little peeved.

“Aw, c’mon, Clauddy, don’t give me that look,” cooed a voice. Prompto blinked, dazed, and felt the fingers tighten in his shirt, “I thought I was your favorite,” the voice whined.

Claud’s eyes fell again to Prompto’s face. He stared, gaze flicking to his lips, to the hickey he’d been making. He ran a hand down his face and leaned back.

“You know I’m booked up tonight, but I think I can squeeze you in if you’re nice,” the voice continued to Claud, “I’ll be right back, sugar.”

Prompto was tugged out of the booth, numb and processing what just happened - what _could’ve_ …

“Sorry man,” the voice said, “Guy’s a regular, but he’s an asshole. Handsy, ya know? Definitely got a thing for blonds - just your luck, right?”

Finally, _finally_ , Prompto’s body started working again.

He turned and looked up once they were a good ways away.

The guy was a little taller than him, but yeah, definitely every bit as blond-haired and blue eyed as Prompto was. Shorter hair, a little, and the guy was maybe a little more built.

And he… was dressed …

Um. Scantily.

Prompto’s already pink blush turned scarlet.

Which the guy seemed to notice because he went from raising a brow to busting out in a laugh.

“Um, he’s got a… a thing?” Prompto asked, hesitant.

“If it’s not me, it’s Fairy he asks for. We’re basically twins,” the guy paused and smiled wide, “but I’m the hot one.”

None of this was making any sense. To be fair, Prompto was still concerned his heart was gonna come shooting out his chest. He pressed his fingers to his neck where Claud had… been. He felt just tingling skin and his fingers shaking where he pressed them.

The guy noticed that too, his lips pursing as he scooped up both of Prompto’s hands.

“Aw, man. Poor thing, you’re freaked. It’s alright -here, c’mon,” he turned and tugged Prompto along gently as he could through the crowd.

Prompto couldn’t help but spare a last glance past his shoulder. It was no use - if Claud was still there, he was lost in the crowd.

He let himself be dragged for what felt like hours before they ended up slipping through the wall of black curtains. The smell of alcohol faded somewhat, instead replaced by cigarette smoke and musky perfume. They went through a door, down a narrow but brief hall, and passed through a second door.

So, back room business, huh? Judging from how his ‘guide’ was dressed … he had a few guesses just what kind of business.

“Shh, just try to relax - close your eyes if it freaks you out, we’re just goin’ to the green room. It’s through here.”

Prompto got one glimpse of the room they entered draped in red and violet and black. Little alcoves on one side and a stage on the other with tall, shiny poles and bodies lounging or … moving - and yep, okay. He closed his eyes and tried desperately to not die from embarrassment.

Finally, the light flashed normal (no red, no neon purple) behind his eyelids. He opened his eyes and was greeted with a dressing room of sorts. There were a few other guys and a handful of girls hanging out either on their phones or talking or getting dressed.

And they were dressed, um. Like… his guide.

Prompto pointedly looked at his shoes and ignored the heat in his face.

“Okay, just - you can sit here and relax, ‘kay? No one’s gonna bug you back here.”

“Who’s he?”

Prompto’s guide shrugged and eased Prompto down onto the sofa opposite one of the girls, hands gentle on his shoulders.

“No clue, but one of Fairy’s regulars was gettin’ all up in his business. Dude was drunk as hell, so probably just got confused.”

“Does Fairy even _own_ a baseball hat?”

“Fuck should I know?”

Prompto heard his guide snicker, the girl huff a little, but lightly, and then it was more or less quiet-ish except from the thrumming bass pulsing behind the walls.

His guide sat next to him, was polite enough to leave some space between them, and started up again.

“Want some water or something?” He leaned forward a little, still a respectable distance, but made a face, “Man, fucking Clauddy, for real,” he frowned at the blossoming hickey, “That’s gonna leave… well - anyway, you got a name?”

Prompto swallowed around the rock in his throat and looked up, caught eyes with the guy who smiled back at him, offering his own name when Prompto didn’t.

“I’m Saccharo. Sacchi works,” he shrugged, grinning, “Stage name, ya know?”

Prompto blinked, like coming out of a daze. He nodded a little, tugged on his hat to pull it down some. His name was in the papers, so…

“Um… Tiny.”

Sacchi’s brows shot up into his hairline. “Huh?”

“You… can, uh, call me Tiny.”

Okay, it was _S t u p i d_ with a capital S, but it was the first thing that came to his mind.

Sacchi tilted his head, lips curling up even though he tried to stop it.

“Cool. Okay, Tiny,” he said and gave Prompto a gentle punch on the shoulder, “A million ways you coulda got that nickname, huh?”

Flush as ever, Prompto rubbed at his neck and tentatively scanned the room.

“Thanks for… earlier.”

Sacchi nodded and leaned back against the couch.

“Hey,” the girl said.

Now that Prompto was back to his senses (more or less) he glanced over. She had long, light hair, so pale it was almost white and striking grey eyes. She had a dusting of freckles that could rival Prompto’s own. She was just … pretty. Like, really pretty - and that wasn’t even taking into consideration her… um… ‘outfit.’

She poked Sachhi in the side, “Who was the regular?”

“That Claud guy - the shady one, ya know?”

“The Lucian?”

Prompto looked between them, gaze settling on Sacchi when his face scrunched up and he bit out a, “Yeah.”

The girl sighed and leaned back, too.

“What’s he even doing here?” she muttered with a frown.

“Not a lotta blonds in Lucis,” Sacchi mused, a bitter tinge to his smirk, “Dude’s got a hate boner for us Niffs. He’s got money, though. That’s all that matters.”

The girl nodded in agreement, but looked unconvinced.

Sacchi opened an eye and peeked over at Prompto.

“You doin’ better? You can hang out here with Tia if you want-”

“Satia,” the girl cut him off, “Tia’s for customers only.”

“Ok, whatever,” Sacchi groaned, “Anyway, Tiny, offer’s there if you want it. Or, uh… look, you uh… I mean, you got any place to go? ‘Cause … I mean, if you were here in the first place I hope I didn’t … like, interrupt a transaction or nothin’.”

Prompto really didn’t have anywhere to go. He’d been spotted, but Claud’d been pretty drunk. Like couldn’t-stand-on-his-own drunk. And it was night … maybe he could use one of their phones, pull up a map and strategize?

It was better than wandering around without a plan.

“Is it okay?” Prompto tried, glancing over, “To, uh.. stay here for a few?”

They both nodded.

“And hey, if you need a place to stay-”

“Naaaah, Tia, c’mon!” Sacchi groaned and turned to swat at her.

“Excuse me, what the fuck?” she looked affronted.

“Quit scammin’ on him - he’s totally your type, right?” Sacchi teased, turning and whispering behind his hand to Prompto, “Tried the same shit with me’n Fairy when we first showed up.”

“Bite me,” Satia huffed and jumped off the couch, arms folded across her chest.

“She’s got a point, though - you need a place to stay?”

Satia scowled at him, “Who’s scamming now?”

“Hey, I’m just lookin’ out for my own kind,” Sacchi shrugged, something sparkling in his eyes as he leaned in and continued, “Plus, just look at the guy and think about it …  - _triplets_ . Just _think_ about it, Tia.”

“You’re so gross.”

“It’s called business,” He shrugged, smirking.

Satia rolled her eyes and skulked off.

Prompto blinked, debating if he’d followed the conversation or not.

“So?” Sacchi turned to him, “I mean, we got a couch you can crash on.”

Prompto watched Satia disappear through the door, brows sewn as he glanced to Sacchi.. This conversation was spiraling, fast.

“You serious?” he asked, “We just met, aren’t you…I don’t know, worried or something?”

“You’re harmless,” Sacchi mused, smiling but it faded fast, “Besides, no offence, but you look rough, dude. And… like I said, people like you’n me… we don’t just hang out in places like this for no reason.” Sacchi shifted, “I’m just - I’ve been in your shoes, ya know? On the streets’n stuff.”

Prompto glanced down at himself. Right. The way he was dressed, he probably looked … well, he knew where Sacchi was coming from now. And, technically, he wasn’t wrong. Prompto was technically on the streets.

He looked over, fingers plucking at the loose threads of his massive t-shirt. Sacchi really had his back. The guy seemed… nice enough. Kinda like how Mrs. Pietas was nice, but Sacchi just in a way more… um, lively way.

Damn. His stomach flopped at the thought of Mrs. Pietas. Of Fraus and Terreo and Ardyn and probably a whole platoon of MTs that were probably on the hunt by now.

“Hey, look. You don’t gotta make a decision now, ya know? How ‘bout this - just crash with us for the night?” Sacchi slid off the couch and threw his arms overhead in a stretch, “Think about it. I’m off work in 30 - you can hang here ‘til then if ya want. Anybody asks, just tell’em you’re waitin’ for me, they won’t bug ya.”

Sacchi straightened out and gave Prompto a little wave and a smile before turning to smooth out his hair and disappear into the club.

A few of the others spared Prompto a glance here and there, but they mostly left him alone and went about their business which he was thankful for.

The first ten minutes he just sat and absently rubbed at the tender, pink spot on his neck.

Claud … he’d …

 _“He has a taste for blonds_.”

Wasn’t - didn’t the guy ... didn’t he hate Niffs? It was a long time ago, long enough that the memory was foggy, but Prompto remembered Claud practically spewing in rage when he saw Prompto’s barcode.

So, then … what the hell?

Prompto sorta felt a little more grounded now that he got some air, especially since some of the others were either falling asleep or made their way out into the club beyond. He looked around the room. He’d never been anywhere like this - never really interacted with… um … evening entertainers.

He felt stupid for wondering, but did Insomnia have this too? Like a red light district?

One by one the rest of the people in the room disappeared into the club. It was kind of interesting, watching them go. They worked on their outfits or their hair or makeup. They’d be browsing on their phones, the soft chatter of videos streaming or music chiming over the humming bass beyond the walls. It was just like him and Noct killing time before a meeting or work or whatever.

It was when he was left alone that Prompto’s nerves started firing off. Everything that happened so far, especially tonight, just swirled into a mess until it was unrecognizable and he couldn’t make any sense of it. It was just static So for now he didn’t think about it.

Sacchi reappeared after a little while. His blond hair was mussed up and messier than it’d been when he left, skin flushed pink and lips swollen and pursed. He closed the door behind him. He raised a brow and smirked when he caught Prompto looking at him.

“Doubt you could afford me, Tiny.”

“What?!” Prompto gaped, going red.

Sacchi busted out laughing and waved him off, “Fuck, you’re so pure. Relax, man, just a joke.” He did a once over around the room and gathered up a few belongings.

“Alright, we good? Ready to go?” Sacchi asked while pulling on his coat.

Prompto, still a little pink in the face, nodded. “Yeah.. if you’re sure.”

“Super sure. C’mon, Tiny. Let’s go home.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you seriously gonna follow me everywhere?”

“Mhm.”

“Even the bathroom?”

“Yup.”

“Great. Well, just so you know, I can wipe my own-”

“Got it, Highness. Mind tellin’ me where we’re headed?”

Noct scowled, eyes straight ahead as he gripped his backpack straps tighter. “You’re a Glaive. You figure it out.”

Said Glaive rolled his eyes skyward and prayed that whatever he’d done to piss the Six off, they’d forgive him. And soon.

Noct returned to pointedly ignoring his escort, but did find himself guiltily glad it was one of the Glaives instead of Specs who was tagging along with him. Ever since this whole home-schooling thing (ever since the whole _Prompto_ thing, actually), Igniss’d been … overbearing. More than usual.

It was nothing short of a miracle he’d gotten Ignis’ (begrudging) blessing to step out for some fresh air. He had no doubt that the Glaive practically glued to his shoulder wasn’t the only security tag-along he had following him.

Didn’t matter, though. It was a breather and Noct’d take what he could get.

Though it was still light out, the street lamps were on and glimmering overhead, snowflakes catching light as they fell.

Noct crunched along through the slush until they finally turned the corner and his destination came into view.

“Looks more like an apartment complex than an arcade,” the Glaive supplied.

“Pit stop,” Noct answered.

He knocked a few times on Prompto’s front door wishing, no matter how impossible, his friend would answer - but at the very least hoping his parents were home. He just wanted to take a look. It’d been close to a month now since he’d last seen him. Maybe Prompto’s parents heard from him? Maybe they had some idea?

He paused, his balled fist hovering over the door when he noticed a few soppy, wet papers stuffed just under the welcome mat, some of them in bright colors with red markings reading “ _NOTICE”_ or “ _UNPAID.”_

Noct took a knee, scooped them up, and spied under the corner of the welcome mat a little glimmer that couldn’t possibly be what he -

Yeah.

Spare key. Under the welcome mat. _Seriously, Prompto?_

And they thought the guy was a spy.

Noct couldn’t help his little smirk, the ridiculousness of it all briefly overriding the worried, concerned, hurt, crap typhoon that had been his mood since Prompto’s disappearance.

He plucked up the key and the papers, stuffed the key in the lock and opened the door. He pushed it open, stepped in and flicked the light switch to take a look around.

Except, lo and behold, there was no light.

Noct flipped the switch a few more times unsuccessfully before giving up and pulling out his phone to use as a flashlight. It wasn’t exactly dark, but the lighting in here was lacking.

He paused and shined the light down at the papers in his hand.

_NOTICE - OPEN IMMEDIATELY: BALANCE PAST DUE_

Sent three weeks ago, just a few days after Prompto’s vanishing act.

“What the hell…?” he muttered under his breath, walking in further while the Glaive lingered in the doorway, brow raised.

Weren’t… why would the bills be past due? And the electric was shut off, but didn’t - weren’t Prompto’s parents… ?

Yeah, nobody’d been here if the layer of dust coasting everything was any indication. Or the stink wafting in from the kitchen.

Noct swallowed around the growing lump in his throat and stuffed the papers in his pocket while making way to the kitchen.

A half-eaten, rotting poptart sat on a plate on the table, a glass of… what was probably once orange juice beside it now growing something within. He glanced toward the garbage bin - not emptied - and the notepad on the countertop with a half-checked off to do list.

With one item unchecked that stood out in particular: _get backpack from nocto_

Noct felt the lump in his throat get bigger.

“Uh, Highness?”

Noct frowned and glanced toward the Glaive.

“Just… I gotta check something, then we can go,” he assured him. He set the notebook down and went for the stairs, heading for Prompto’s room.

Inside, it looked just as lived in as ever except for that eerie coating of dust. Like some kind of creepy post-apocalyptic version of his best friend’s room.

Noct looked around a while. They never hung out here all that much, he could count the times they had on one hand, but back then and even now, nothing seemed… suspect. Unless Prompto was just a super amazing Niflheim secret agent, there was not a sliver of evidence left behind indicating any kind of nefariousness.

Who knew, maybe that stuffed Chocobo on his bed with one eye was a camera. Noct poked at it. Felt pretty normal to him.

He paused when he caught sight of something.

There, practically on a pedestal over the rest of the mess covering the desk, sat Prompto’s camera.

If he were a spy … if he’d left because he wanted to, wouldn’t having a camera _full_ of pictures of Noct, Ignis, Gladio - hell, the inside of Insomnia, select parts of the Citadel - wouldn’t having an actual camera be, oh, maybe useful or something?

Noct snatched the camera up and frowned at the little empty battery image that flashed at him when he tried to turn it on.

He held it close and turned, started to make his way back out because they needed batteries stat.

But … he couldn’t help but wonder …

Where were Prompto’s parents? No one had probably been here since Prompto himself.

So, what the hell? They hadn’t been home for _weeks_?

The Glaive eyed him when Noct reappeared, brow rising at sight of the camera.

“I’m not snooping,” Noct muttered defensively before leading the way back out of the apartment. “We need to make a stop. I ... need batteries.”

“Whatever you say, Highness,” the Glaive shrugged and closed the door behind them, curiously watching the young royal skulk down the sidewalk.

 

* * *

 

“Not exactly the lap of luxury but it does the job.”

Prompto followed Sacchi into the humble third floor apartment. Honestly, it wasn’t all that different from his place back home. Maybe a little smaller and a little less modern. And, okay, yeah, there were bars on the windows, but it wasn’t bad.

It was warm and it was inconspicuous.

So it was perfect.

Prompto lingered in front of the door and watched Sacchi dart around the room. He dropped his bag here, keys there, a kept a wad of cash safely rolled up in his pocket. Once he seemed settled, he glanced up at Prompto and shook his head with a grin.

“Uh, you can come in, ya know? Make yourself at home,” Sacchi gestured vaguely to the worn leather loveseat and disappeared round a corner. “Yo, Fairy?”

Prompto sat on the loveseat squished up against one side. Not like he had a bag to unpack or anything. He plucked at his shirt and sniffed, wincing a little. Hopefully they had laundry in the building.

“You home, dude?” Prompto heard from the kitchen.

No answer. Fairy was not home, it seemed.

He only just now put together that the two were roommates.

Sacchi reappeared, shrugging his way back round the corner. “Not home, I guess. He usually gets off earlier’n me. He might’ve stayed out or something.”

Prompto nodded just for something to do.

“Anyway… so, you can pass out there if it’s comfy enough for ya. Either there or the floor. No blankets, but uh - hey, here,” Sacchi trotted toward the door and plucked a coat from the rack. Prompto caught it when he tossed it over.

“Hope that helps.”

“It does - seriously. You don’t have to do any of this… tha-”

“Hey, I’m beat. Look, I’m down to hear your story, ya know? Sleep time now though. No payback needed.” Sacchi turned, started for one of the other rooms, but he paused and wriggled his eyebrows, “But there’s always the triplets thing, ya know?” He laughed and disappeared again, “Think about it!”

“Thank- ...uh. Night, I guess,” Prompto murmured, his gratitude falling on deaf ears.

Prompto fell asleep with surprising ease. He got up with far less.

Groggy, Prompto blinked awake to late afternoon sunlight on his face and the clattering of someone banging around in the kitchen. Having someone around wasn’t all that bad, actually. Growing up, he could count the times he woke up to that sound on one hand.

“Oh, hey - you up?”

Prompto gave Sacchi a little wave, but sat up when he saw he was fully dressed. Man, how late was it?

“Naw, Tiny, it’s cool, you don’t gotta get up. I’m just out for my shift in a few. Fairy’s already down there, stayed out last night, but he’ll beat me back tonight. You can hang out here unless you got somewhere to be.”

Prompto sat up anyway and pushed the coat off. He grimaced when a big fat waft of stank met him square in the face.

“If it’s okay,” he answered, glancing back, “But… you have a laundry machine or something?”

Sacchi paused shoving something into his work bag and glanced over. “Hum. Yeah, I think in the basement. It’s four gil a pop, though - coin operated, ya know? Besides,” he frowned, “those are massive on you, dude. You’re scrawny.”

Prompto huffed, “They’re fine.”

Sacchi shrugged, “Whatever you say. You want something that fits, dig in my closet,” he thumbed toward the door behind him, “Still big on you, but better than that.”

Geeze, what was this guy, his fairy godmother?

Prompto just sat there a while, watched Sacchi dart back and forth like he had last night. Tingles of guilt probed at his gut. Here was this guy working hard as hell and making it work somehow. And here was Prompto just leeching off him.

Just like he leeched off Noct.

Just like he leeched off everyone.

Damn it. He had to go. If there was one thing he could do, one thing he could make right, he was going to make it happen.

War between Niflheim and Lucis - it wasn’t doing anyone any good. Even here, even in Niflheim’s capital city, good, nice people like Sacchi and Satia had to … put up with this kind of life - with assholes like Claud and probably worse.

Prompto could manage a little road trip just fine.

“Sacchi?”

“Hm?” Sacchi stuffed his keys in his coat pocket and turned a little while he tugged the door open.

“Do you have.. Like a phone or a laptop I could use?” Prompto asked.

“Not me, but I think Fairy’s got a tablet. Knock yourself out,” Sacchi hurried out, waving a little, “I gotta run. Don’t peace out before sayin’ bye!”

Prompto waved and watched him go.

He sat a while. He listened to Sacchi’s heavy footsteps thunder down the stairwell until they disappeared. A door slammed shut. A siren whirred in the distance. Overhead and low, one of those airships flew past rattling everything in the apartment like thunder.

And then it was quiet again, not even birds chirping out there in the cold.

Prompto looked around to take in the apartment in sunlight. Humble, that was for sure, but comfortable and full of life. He could practically see Sacchi hanging the feather boa over the lamp in the corner or pinning up the star and heart magnets on the fridge.

He wandered through the kitchen and absently tugged open a cabinet or stood in front of the open fridge in thought. He wouldn’t take anything, that never crossed his mind. He just wanted to see how they lived. These people who were supposedly his enemies. The Niffs.

His people.

Eventually, Prompto ended up in the shower, his foraged clothes in a sad pile on the crusty tile floor. The bathroom was a little oppressive, only one harsh overhead light and no windows, but the water ran hot and soaked through his skin in the best way.

He winced a little, his fingers digging in too much on his neck where Claud ... kissed him.

He let his hand fall and stared down at his wrist. He watched the water stream down it, skin pink and blotchy under those familiar black lines.

What … was he?

The question pinged around in his skull like a ricocheting bullet. He’d never voiced it before, never put it into words even in his own mind, but he had to, he _had_ to face it, face the fact he wasn’t…

That maybe he wasn’t .. what he thought he was.

When the water ran cold, Prompto stepped out and dried himself. He slung a towel around his waist then made way for Sacchi’s room.

Inside, early evening sunlight bled through the drawn blinds in a pattern of lines across a messy bed. Prompto walked cautiously, as if on sacred ground, because, really, someone else’s room kinda _was_ sacred ground. He wouldn’t really be comfortable with anyone digging around his room, especially when he wasn’t home.

Avoiding snooping too much, he pulled open the closet to reveal a pretty impressive expanse of clothing. All colors, all styles - no crazy white gold and red (which Prompto was forever thankful for). He snagged up an inexpensive looking grey hoodie, a pair of black joggers, and a beat up but comfortable looking pair of sneakers that’d been shoved in the closet’s furthest corner. And a pair of socks, too.

He’d make a note to pay Sacchi back somehow, someway. He wasn’t exactly Mister Moneybags back home, but he could cover some clothes and maybe a dinner or something. At the very least.

The next stop was Fairy’s room. Prompto pushed open the door expecting a similar sight to Sacchi’s ‘organized’ eccentric chaos. His lips parted in surprise at the sight he got instead.

A bed with sheets tucked so tight and made so sharp you could bounce a gil off it. Not a thing on the floor, no dust in sight, and damn, was this guy some kind of Ignis?

Prompto stared a moment longer as he wandered inside, a little embarrassed at himself for the assumptions he’d made. He just… figured, y’know, people in Sacchi and Fairy’s line of work didn’t have time to really … keep tidy - or, well, just not to _this_ extent. It was borderline militaristic.

He spied the tablet almost instantly, perfectly in its place neatly on an equally clear desk. Prompto scooped it up, spared the room a last curious glance, and retreated to the loveseat in the living room.

Prompto pulled up the browser and stared at the empty search bar. Where to even start?

The news, maybe? But he already knew what it was gonna say.

A glutton for punishment, he opened up the homepage for _The Crown City Star._ Well, maybe on the plus side, his face wasn’t the main headline today. Sure, he had a little article off to the side, but it didn’t look like much new on him specifically.

But the main headline was enough to get his gut clenching.

_THE GREAT DIVIDE: INSOMNIA’S IMMIGRANTS FACING RISE IN DISCRIMINATION_

Right. Great.  

Prompto closed out of the page and opened a new tab to pull up Moogle Maps.

Except he was frustratingly met with an error message. Apparently, Moogle Maps wasn’t allowed in this country. Add censorship to Niflheim’s list of crimes.

He pulled up another, less reputable map service and zoomed in on Gralea.

Okay, so … he had literally no idea where he was in the city. But he knew where to start.

He searched for the club, grinned when a pin for _The Reactor_ showed up and sighed when the reviews for the place came up next to it.

Stay classy, Internet.

Still, he’d gotten his general vicinity and zoomed out a little to get an idea of the area. They were a little ways off from the metro stations, and even further from the station with the big train lines that spanned out the Imperial countryside. That was where he needed to get to.

Prompto scanned the desk looking for a notepad or some kind of paper. He found a post-it, smaller than he’d like but whatever, and began scribbling down directions.

When he finished, he paused. He pulled up information on tickets, the price and any IDs required, the answers to which were… disappointing.

Because train tickets weren’t cheap. And he needed an ID.

Both of which would be a problem. Not like he could just get a job or walk into the Niflheim Bureau of Identification and be all, _“Who, me? Naw, I just look exactly_ _like that murdery assassin spy that’s been on the run. Totally different guy. Happens all the time.”_

Okay. So… options?

Smuggling was obviously a thing - that’s how Terreo and them got him in in the city in the first place. Tucked in the back train cars with the Chocobos.

Prompto didn’t have connections like Terreo or Fraus, though. So … guess he’d have to make some.

He took down some more notes, made his writing as tiny as possible. He tried to fit in where the train cars were kept when not in use and different ways to get into the station and other stuff. If he could do it, if he could sneak into a storage car, he could ride the line all the way to the end and then … go from there. Important thing was he’d be out of the Capital.

Prompto scribbled one more note: _get a phone_

Maybe, even if he couldn’t make it across the sea, his message could.

He continued researching until his eyes hurt. Prompto frowned at the clock. He didn’t really mean to stay up past midnight, but, man… the rabbit hole kept on going.

He looked up when keys jangled and the door swung open.

In came a blond maybe a little taller than Prompto, a little older, and dressed in a winter coat and not much else. The guy paused in the doorway, blue eyes wide when they landed on Prompto.

They immediately sharpened to slits. Before he could blink, Prompto was caught, the guy straddling him on the couch with one hand in his shirt and the other on his throat.

“What the fuck are one of _you_ doing here? Who sent you?”

“Sa..Sacchi-” Prompto choked out, face scrunched up in pain, “You.. are you Fairy?”

The guy blinked at him, his fingers tightening just barely. He let go after a few beats and pulled back.

Prompto sucked in air and coughed as his hands flew up to his neck. He looked up at the guy still on top of him. He… he looked like..

“Sacchi mentioned…” Fairy started, the words dying on his tongue as he slid off of Prompto. He looked back at him, just stared and Prompto thought he was caught, recgnized. He was screwed, big time.

But Fairy wasn’t looking at him like Niflheim’s ‘hero.’ He was looking at him like he’d seen him a million times before.

Prompto’s fingers still probed his tender throat, but he managed a feeble nod. “Sacchi.. Um. He said you’d be home earlier than him. You’re… you’re Fairy, right?”

He rambled, but it was better than sitting here in silence while Fairy’s expression got darker and harder to read with every word that came out of Prompto’s mouth.

Fairy just stood there. He watched a while, Prompto saw his fingers twitch every so often like he was making to reach for something but never quite made the move.

Finally, the guy turned away and took off his coat without saying a word. He put his things away more meticulously than Sacchi had, everything in its place and an order to every step.

“That’s my tablet.”

Prompto nearly jumped out of his skin.

He fumbled with the tablet, closed out of the pages he’d been browsing, sheepish and red-faced.

“Yeah! Um, sorry - Sacchi said … I had to do some research and - uh, sorry, here, I - uh I kept it charged for you, man. Thanks, sorry - “

“It’s fine.”

Done with settling in, Fairy turned and sat on the other end of the sofa, legs crossed and arms folded across his chest.

He was … so serious. Prompto felt like he was about to get yelled at or lectured or something. Talk about high strung.

If not for the eye liner or the ridiculous outfit, he’d kinda... he reminded Prompto of …

Now it was Prompto’s turn to stare, lips parting as a soft, “..no way,” escaped him.

Fairy raised a brow, for the first time not the one calling the shots in their little engagement so far. He saw the recognition creeping over Prompto’s features, watched his eyes grow wide.

Fairy scowled. “Something on your mind?”

“You’re … you look like … someone.”

And everything fell into place.

Fairy gave him the once over again, gaze lingering on his face and then over everything else.

“And you’re not like the rest,” Fairy mused, “I guess I’m getting rusty.”

Prompto held his breath when Fairy shot him a grim, sharp smile.

“Name’s Fero Pietas,” he offered, “But I’m sure you already put that together.”

 

* * *

 

Noct slammed his locker shut and headed for the door.

He was done with today. He was done with this week - this entire month, basically.

Today was his first day back in school and he found himself wishing it was his last. He’d take Ignis over this garbage.

The classes were fine. School itself was fine. It was the _people._

He slid into the car unceremoniously, the door slamming behind him and earning him a glance from Ignis in the rearview mirror.

“Ah,” his advisor hummed, “You’ve had a good day, I take it?”

Noct shoved his backpack over and stared pointedly out the window.

“Bunch of assholes were picking on someone,” he supplied, “I broke it up, but I got there late.”

“Ah,” Ignis hummed again. He pulled out onto the street, waited a beat, and then, “I imagine this someone was not of Lucian origin?”

“They’re Lucian,” Noct bit out, gripping at his shirtsleeves. His knuckles went white, “They live here, don’t they?”

Ignis’ lip twitched. He nodded, just a little. “They do indeed.”

The drive fell quiet, the city passing as it always did.

“People are getting touchy, Specs,” Noct said after a while. “They’re … suspicious. Looking for any excuse to cause trouble”

“So I’ve heard,” Ignis replied.

“Media’s not helping,” Noct continued and folded his arms across his chest, “Seriously, every other day there’s a new picture of Prompto with some kind of insane conspiracy theory. What ever happened to investigative journalism?”

He scowled and stared out the window.

“Amped up security isn’t helping either. They’re … Immigrants already live in a separate district - is this really gonna help anything?”

“I understand your sentiments, Highness, but these steps are not being implemented lightly.”

Noct glanced over, brows knit, “They’re being implemented because people are idiotic enough to believe Prompto was some deep undercover agent,” he muttered.

“We still don’t know that he wasn’t,” Ignis countered and immediately caught the flat look Noct shot him in the mirror.

“I’m just saying people were already tense with the war. And it’s getting worse.”

Ignis turned them toward Noct’s apartment, now suitably reinforced with improved security - including an intimidating retinue of guards posted out front his door (and elsewhere, but Noct needn’t know about that).

“Fallout is to be expected,” Ignis answered as he parked and exited the car, “I imagine that’s precisely why the Empire has been so forthcoming with it all.”

“What, like they want to get us all spun up?” Noct asked as he slid out the car and grabbed his backpack.

“Every action has a reaction. I have little doubt their intent is to stir the proverbial pot,” Ignis said.

“Divide and conquer,” Noct muttered grimly.

They climbed in the elevator, Ignis pushing the button for their floor while Noct frowned at his shoes.

“Maybe…”

Ignis glanced at his charge from the corner of his eye. His charge was pointedly not looking at him.

“Maybe they … that’s why they grabbed him,” Noct proposed, “Maybe he was a target ‘cause he fit the bill.”

Even saying it left an ashy taste on his tongue. Maybe Prompto met their ‘ _requirements_.’

Foreigner. Close with the Prince. Unassuming, boy-next-door type.

“ _If_ they grabbed him,” Ignis countered, “So far we have no evidence he didn’t leave of his own will.”

“Yeah,” Noct huffed, shooting Ignis another look while his advisor opened the door, “Just a whole bunch of suspicious coincidences.”

Ignis sighed and pushed the door open. He followed Noct inside, frowning when the Prince discarded his backpack more ungracefully than usual.

The Prince plunked onto the sofa, sprawled his arms back behind him and stared up at the ceiling.

“I was thinking-”

Ignis hummed as he turned to the kitchen.

“-I wanna have dinner with my father. If… he’s got the time.”

Ignis set his own bag on the counter and turned to Noct.

“This is rather spur of the moment.”

“Yeah, I know. I just think it might be good to talk.”

“To talk,” Ignis echoed.

Noct nodded.

Ignis pushed up his glasses and returned his attention to the kitchen cabinets as he began to put back the item’s he’ already been taking out.

“I’m certain his Majesty will be delighted,” the advisor hummed. “Might I advise you complete your homework before dinner, then? Idle hands and all that.”

 

* * *

 

“I … I thought …”

“You’re the Emperor’s little shining star, isn’t that right?” Fero cut him off, “Using one of you… This was clever of them. I’d wager it was the Chancellor who came up with it.”

Prompto shifted on the sofa. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the military?”

Fero sneered, “Aren’t you supposed to be in a tank?”

Prompto knit his brows. “Tank?” He shook his head, “No, I mean - your mom said you … how come you haven’t called?”

Fero set his jaw, blue eyes still narrow and locked on Prompto with that unreadable expression. “That’s not really any of your business, is it?”

Prompto scowled back. Yeah, okay, he was a guest here and everything, but what exactly did he do to piss this guy off?

“She asked me to tell you to call her. That’s all,” he muttered.

“Yeah. ‘Cause you’re so close now, right?”

Prompto frowned. “What?”

“Sacchi may not follow the news much, but I certainly do,” Fero answered after a beat, “You’re our great hero.” He shook his head, “Can’t believe they’d bastardize one of the Chief’s experiments like this. I didn’t even know it was possible. Seriously, imagine my surprise seeing your face right next to my mother on every screen in the city.”

Prompto stared at Fero, the words caught in his throat, the questions a blockade.

“You … talk like you know me,” Prompto choked out, shaking his head, “I’ve … I’ve never been outside Insomnia.”

Fero’s annoyance withered back to disgust, a deep crease in his forehead. “Not you personally, no. But I’ve had enough of your face to last a lifetime.”

“Okay?” Prompto breathed, the puzzle in his head forming a picture he couldn’t comprehend. He stood and set the tablet on the seat behind him. “I’m sorry for whatever I did to piss you off,” he said, “Meeting your mom… showing up here. I get it, it’s kinda weird. I just … I wanted to thank Sacchi, but if you … you know, if you could tell him ‘thanks’ for me?  I’ll get out of your hair.”

Prompto started for the door. It was the middle of the night and he was exhausted, but traveling under cover of darkness was probably his best bet. And, anyway, he had a plan now, at least one waypoint to hit before he had to figure out the real logistics.

He was at the door, just about to reach out, when an amused chuckle stopped him. He turned and glanced at Fero who watched him with that inconceivable whirlwind of emotions on his face.

“You’re like … you’re just so human, it’s really something.”

Prompto let his hand fall. He turned all the way back, just stood, contents of his stomach demanding out. He felt his eyes burn as if with tears, a wave of hysteria rushing through him like lightning, passing from one heartbeat to the next.

“I _am_ human,” he insisted, barely able to hear his own whisper.

Fero tilted his head but said nothing. He just watched, just let his eyes roam in wonder like he had earlier that evening. Like Prompto was some kind of bizarre anomaly - a dog walking on hind legs.

“Of course,” Fero conceded, standing as well, “But you’re Sacchi’s guest. Don’t leave on my account. I was just … letting off some steam.” He rolled his shoulders, eyes on Prompto as he cracked a grim smirk, “Hard night at work, you know? One of my clients was rather perturbed. Seemed there was some confusion last night.”

Prompto swallowed, but remained where he was. “...Claud?”

Fero nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Accused me of ditching him last night and took it out on me during our time together this evening. Imagine my surprise, right? Considering I’d been entertaining a different client the night before.”

“I’m really sorry about that,” Prompto said, and meant it. His skin crawled at the memory.

“Don’t be,” Fero waved him off, “Claudius is always rough with me. Just a little more than usual tonight, that’s all. Living out a little fantasy of his, I guess.”

Prompto grimaced at the implication.

“That’s why I don’t call.”

Prompto looked up. “Huh?”

“My mother,” Fero supplied, shrugging again and walking into the kitchen. He motioned for Prompto to follow. “I was a commissioned officer in the Army. I’m certain she believes that to still be the case,” he grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and filled both with water, “If she knew her son was an escort I’m certain it’d kill her. Or as good as,” he handed Prompto a glass, that same grim smirk on his face, “Though the scandal would get you some relief from the headlines, I’m sure.”

Prompto took the glass and tried to push the image out of his mind with no luck. He could see it - Mrs. Pietas picking up the phone, her excitement hearing from her son, the second the news came across the line. She didn’t seem cruel, though, not once in their meetings. She couldn’t be the type to disown her own son, right? Not when she’d been so proud.

Prompto took a sip and watched Fero over the rim of his glass.

He was … pretty for a guy. Which made Prompto blush considering he’d been compared to Fero at least twice now.

But the guy was obviously smart. He was clearly every bit the militaman his training made him, so …

“Why’d you do it?” he asked, “Why’d you, you know, leave the military?”

Fero set his glass down and caught eyes with Prompto.

“I would die for the people of Niflheim without thinking. Zero hesitation,” he said, “but my work, selling my body?” he gestured at himself, “I’d do this a million times before selling my soul.”

Prompto felt ill as Fero’s gaze fell, his eyes on Prompto’s shirtsleeve just over the barcode. He glanced up after a moment, a whole world of knowing passed in the look Fero gave him.

“I was an intelligence officer,” Fero explained, “and my first tour of duty was at the First Magitek Production Facility.”

 

* * *

 

“What do you mean, ‘lost him?’”

“He’d … been so well behaved, I suppose it - we just … let security, erm, lapse, perhaps?”

Terreo stared at Fraus. The skin on his face felt like it was stretched too tight, like it’d crack and crumble into dust.

They lost the kid.

They _lost the kid._

“Fuck.”

“Yes, my, ah… my sentiments exactly,” Fraus mumbled.

“Okay,” Terreo dragged a hand down his face, “Okay. Right. So where do we go from here?”

“Well, it hasn’t been a full twenty-four hours just yet,” Fraus replied, “Obviously I alerted relevant military police immediately. They’re on the hunt on the streets. As… as for the higher ups-”

“They are not at all pleased, I assure you.”

Terreo and Fraus tensed, their gazes snapping to the doorway through which Ardyn strolled.

And, indeed, he did not look happy. At all.

Yet, amazingly, he did look as if he found the whole thing funny.

Which was odd.

Terreo cleared his throat and nodded a little. “Chancellor,” he greeted while Fraus mimicked his gesture.

“It seems we’ve misplaced our trophy. He can’t’ve gone far,” Ardyn noted, “After all, there are only so many ways out of the city.”

“I can’t believe he’d do this,” Fraus sighed, exasperated.

“No?” Ardyn mused, “It all seems rather protocol to me. The little photographer was still your prisoner no matter how glittery the bars of his cage.”

Fraus paled and bobbed is head in agreement.

Terreo turned to the Chancellor. “Fraus had the MPs search the city top to bottom.”

“Top to bottom, you say? Each and every nook and cranny?”

Terreo glanced to Fraus for confirmation. His partner glanced away, fingers fidgeting in front of him.

“Most … Mostly, Chancellor. There were some neighborhoods”

“The unsavory sort?”

Fraus winced and glanced up. He nodded.

“Which would offer the perfect refuge for a runaway seeking haven,” Ardyn continued, “Look everywhere. And I do mean _everywhere_ , gentlemen. I’d prefer the boy found sooner rather than later. Headlines to make, you understand.”

“Such a shame it is no longer your concern. Nay, Chancellor?”

Once more, they all glanced in unison toward the entry to the cozy parlor that was beginning to feel more like a war room.

Chief Researcher Besithia stood in the doorway with a sneer on his face and an ever-silent MT at his side.

Terreo tensed but glanced over at the Chancellor’s heavy sigh.

“So you’ve convinced him after all, my old friend?”

The Chief bowed his head in confirmation. He smiled.

It made Terreo’s skin itch.

“Custody has been officially passed to me, Chancellor,” Chief Besithia replied, “Once the boy is retrieved, we shall be moving him to a secure location for confinement.”

“What… what about the plan?” Fraus asked looking like he wished he hadn’t spoken up the second their eyes landed up him. “Your, ah - your proposal to the Emperor I mean, Chancellor. Will it still proceed?”

Ardyn looked to the Chief, brow raised and smile on his lips. “Well, Minister?”

“Propaganda needn’t be based on reality,” the Chief sighed after a moment, “As we speak, my officers are crafting a story that will be ‘leaked’ to the media. The plan will proceed unimpeded, rest assured.”

Terreo frowned. “A fake story?”

The Chief scowled at him, “A strategic psychological operation.”

“Po-tay-toh, po-tah-toh,” Ardyn hummed with a smile.

“In any case, I am now official arbiter of the boy as per the Emperor’s ruling. As such, keep your men on the lookout, but once he has been apprehended I expect adherence to this guidance.”

“Minister, you wound me,” Ardyn chimed, "As though any of us present would dare stray from the Emperor’s ruling.”

Terreo shifted his weight. There was something in the Chancellor’s tone. A challenge, but for what, he couldn’t tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I adore you people for your amazing response to this. Thank you so much for your comments and your kudos.
> 
> Good vibes, I hope you're all having an awesome 2019 so far!


	11. Hell of a Night, Huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Some touchy skeevy-ness and d-bag homophobic language below.

Prompto stared at Fero who watched him expectantly like he was waiting for some great  _ ‘Eureka!’  _ moment. Feeling like an idiot, he cleared his throat and answered.

“...uh huh?” 

Fero’s face fell immediately, guarded expectancy turning to exasperation in the blink of an eye.

“Seriously? You don’t…” he trailed off. He shook his head and leaned back against the counter.  “Do you know how Magitek Troopers are made?” 

Prompto frowned at the question. It sat in his gut wrong, like food poisoning. Or just poison period.

“No.”

“Ah,” Fero answered and bowed his head. He didn’t look up again, not for a long while. 

When he eventually did, his face was stone. He set his eyes on Prompto’s face but never quite met his gaze. 

“The Empire’s big on staying ahead of its enemies with the latest technology. I worked in R&D.”

“Research and development?” Prompto clarified.

“Yes,” Fero nodded, “I was responsible for documentation- archiving the research that happened there.”

“Not a fun gig, huh?” 

“No. It wasn’t,” Fero muttered and looked at the glass of water in his hands, “The facility’s where the first MT prototypes were … conceived. A lot of Magitek technology required an … unconventional approach.” He looked up, haunted, and waited, as if hoping Prompto would say something, change the subject. 

There was only silence between them and the whine of sirens in the distance.

With a soft sigh, he continued.

“Other countries have lines they won’t cross. Red lines drawn in the sand.” Prompto saw his knuckles go white where he gripped the glass. “The Empire has no such lines.”

“Look, you don’t… you don’t have to go there, dude,” Prompto cut in, “I get it. Dark stuff, right?”

Fero looked up at him.

“So, I get it,” Prompto said, “No need to dig up the past.”

He took a swig from his glass and drained it til it was empty. He planted it on the countertop and set Fero with a look.

“I think you made the right choice.”

Fero looked at him, finally caught his eyes, his own wide. 

“...you-”

A phone chimed, interrupting the weight that was pushing down on them both. Fero hesitated. He pulled out his phone and glanced down at it. 

“It’s late,” he informed Prompto after a beat. Fero stuffed his phone back in his pocket, “I should probably get some sleep. Work tomorrow.” He headed toward his room. “You can… if you want, you should come with,” he said, “Better than being here alone. I’m sure Sacchi’d appreciate it.”

Prompto watched him wander off until he closed the bedroom door behind him. He smiled, small and tired, and glanced down at his barcode hidden away beneath his shirtsleeve.

“Yeah,” Prompto called out, “Sounds good.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The club was wildly different with all the lights on overhead. Even more so without a mass of sweaty bodies swaying to deafening music. 

Honestly, it was kind of a little depressing. Barren, open floors were stained with who knew what and tall, iron beams reached up to a black ceiling that was lined with lights that’d be flashing wildly in only a matter of hours. 

Prompto loitered by the bar, fingers fidgeting at the hem of his shirt while he watched Fero, Sacchi and the others scamper about to prepare for the night. 

“Do you guys need some-”

“No. Stop asking.”

“Man, Fairy, guy just wants to help. What crawled up your butt and died?” Sacchi teased, grinning, “Oh, wait- Clauddy, righ- Ow! That hurt!”

“Good,” Fero bit before disappearing into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

“Touchy,” Sacchi whined and rubbed his shoulder.

Prompto laughed, but… it kinda hurt if he thought about it too long.

“Oh, hey, Tiny! What, you part of the team now?” 

Prompto glanced over to Satia who’d just arrived and was in the midst of shedding a heavy winter coat. He shook his head, a little red in the face. 

“No way. I’d suck at this,” he said.

“That’s kinda the point,” Sacchi chimed, “Don’t knock it til ya try it.”

Prompto’s face burned. He tugged on his hat for something to do.

“So, uh - so, anyway, do you guys usually get here this early, or ..?”

“Friday night,” Satia said with a shrug as she wandered past toward the back, “Fridays are always busy.”

“Guess that makes sense,” Prompto mused. 

He fell quiet when he sensed their distraction. If it was gonna be busy, he’d do his best to stay out of the way. 

Maybe coming back here wasn’t the best idea in the world, but it was a place to start. If Claud came to this kind of place, others in his line of ‘work’ were bound to show up. He just had to be careful.

“Good evening! Where’re my lovely employees, hm? Lemme get a look at ya.”

Prompto tensed, eyes darting toward the entry to the backroom club (which he’d since learned was called  _ Mako _ by those who knew it existed). A man stood there, a head shorter than Prompto, a blond top knot tied loosely on his head, wearing sunglasses and a wolfish smile to finish out what painted a not-so-pretty but unpleasantly familiar picture. 

He paled and gripped the bar behind him like the foundation crumbled out from under him.

“Mr. Minatio? We weren’t expecting you tonight,” one of the girls called over.

Pravus waved her off and stalked into the space, dark eyes scanning the layout and those within it. 

“Figured it’s been a while so I thought I’d swing by, sweetheart. Gotta make sure you little treasures are keepin’ my customers happy.”

Prompto stood rooted to the spot and peeked out from under the rim of his hat. Thank the Astrals he’d worn it - thank them  _ so freaking much _ . 

The air was notably different, a sort of thickness in it that muted everything. Prompto managed to look over to Sacchi and the others. Their easy-going nature was all but gone. Instead, they moved with practiced grace, every sway of the hips meant to draw eyes. Even Fero who’d reappeared from the bathroom.

He’d never seen people move so simultaneously sensual and mechanical.

“Looks like I’ve got nothing to worry about,” Pravus hummed appreciatively, eyes following Fero who made show of buttoning his snug, skin-tight trousers. “Make sure to be on your top game tonight, dolls. We got VIPs comin’ in.”

“VIPs?” Sacchi looked over, excitement flickering across his features.

“Anything special these VIPs like, sir?” 

Pravus glanced over to Satia and eyed her … approvingly. That was putting it politely. 

“Just be your delectable selves and I’m sure everything’ll go off without a hitch,” he said, licking his lips and breaking out into a smile. “I’ll be back with our guests this evening as part of their entourage. Maybe work on gettin’ this place decorated a little extra special. The house drinks, too. Add a little pizazz- a little sparkle, got it?”

He waved and turned to leave, gaze sweeping over them all and landing on Prompto. 

Prompto didn’t catch his gaze, but he felt eyes on him like a boulder on his chest. He gripped the bar tighter and kept his head bowed, hoping  _ please, please, Six, please don’t let him recognize - _

“And who might this lovely creature-”

“My cousin, sir. Sorry. He’s just tagging along,” Fero cut him off. Prompto looked toward him, couldn’t see his face, but the swaying fluidity of Fero’s body had gone rigid.

“Cousin,” Pravus hummed thoughtfully. He tilted his head to try and get a better look, “Skinny little thing.” 

Prompto saw Fero clench his fists, but keep otherwise still.

“He’s got a point, Tiny. Could use a little meat on those bones,” Sacchi chimed so lightly and so normally that Prompto felt like puking.

“Tiny?”

“Nickname,” Fero explained.

“Appropriate one,” Pravus laughed. He stepped forward and Prompto shrank back against the counter, legs trembling. “You lookin’ for work there, Tiny? ‘Cause-”

“Mr. Minatio, your project manager is on the line.”

Pravus paused, eyes lingering on Prompto just as admiringly as they had on Satia before he finally shifted his attention to the man who’d appeared.

“Right. Right, put him through,” Pravus blew the group a kiss and wriggled his fingers in a wave goodbye, “I’ll be in the office. Make sure this place sparkles tonight.”

And then he was gone.

Prompto slid down the side of the bar, butt landing on the ground and eyes trained on the curtain Pravus disappeared through.

That was close. So, so close.

“Tiny?” Satia’s voice sounded far away.

“Tiny? Oh - fuck, aw… I swear,” Sacchi cooed as he hurried over and took a knee beside Prompto, “Boss freak you out that bad?”

“He… why -?” 

Sacchi rubbed Prompto’s arm, brows knit in concern, “Guy owns half the nightclubs in the city. And a bunch of other stuff, some tech companies I think, but dude makes most of his money under the table.”

Prompto swallowed and just watched the gentle sway of the curtain brushing over the dirt floor.

_ Of course he does. _

Fero came over as well, a concerned-looking Satia close behind. 

“You okay?” Fero asked.

Prompto managed a shaky nod and glanced up, a look of understanding creeping across Fero’s face when they caught eyes.

“Come on,” Fero murmured. He leaned down and grabbed Prompto’s hand. He tugged him up, “You can lie down in the green room.” 

Sacchi jumped up, “Need some company?” he wriggled his eyebrows at Prompto.

Fero scowled, “You guys keep getting ready. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Cock block,” Sacchi huffed, laughing when Satia swatted at him.

There were a few stragglers in the green room, all of them clearing out when Fero waved them off with a, “You guys mind?”

They looked annoyed at first til catching a glimpse of Prompto’s pallid face, their own immediately shifting in empathy.

When the door closed behind the last of them, Fero sank onto the couch next to Prompto.

“You’ve met him before.”

Prompto nodded and looked over. He wiped at the sweat on his brow, the clammy feeling of his own hand making him wince.

“At that, uh … the party where I met your mom. He was there. I just - if recognized me…”

“He’d let you know,” Fero said, “Minatio’s not one for subtlety.” 

Prompto let his hands settle his lap. He curled his fingers and stared down at them.

“I can take you back to the apartment if you want,” Fero offered. Prompto shook his head.

“No. I’ve… I’ve gotta find a way out of the city. If people like Minatio- like Claud come here … this might be my best shot for finding a way out under the radar.”

“You’re trying to leave,” Fero echoed.  

“I have to get home,” Prompto muttered, “There’s gotta be some way to get back to Lucis.”

“Wait,” Fero shook his head, “Wait. I thought- weren’t you spying there? Why would you-”

“It’s lies. It’s all fake,” Prompto said, his gut clenching as he glared at his hands, “I’m not some … some spy or something.” He looked over, a crease between his brows. Fero watched him, expression so genuine, so trustworthy…  

“Minatio … he sent some guys out to kidnap Noct -uh, Prince Noctis. They grabbed me instead.”

Fero stared at him.

“Noctis and I…” Prompto cleared his throat, “I grew up there. In Insomnia. Noct’s my best friend. I guess they, uh .. they - I guess they figured it was an opportunity, you know? Once they… figured me out.”  He tugged on his shirtsleeve.

“You weren’t an Empire plant,” Fero concluded, dumbfounded.

“No. No way,” Prompto looked over, “I’m a Lucian. Even if I’m… whatever I am - I’m a Lucian. I need to- I gotta get home.”

“Why?”

Prompto looked at him, blue eyes ablaze.

“My friend’s in trouble.”

Prompto couldn’t read Fero’s face. It was closed off like when they first met.

“You know they’ll kill you, righ? They think you’re a traitor. Your  _ friend  _ must hate you.” 

“I don’t care. I have to warn him.”

Fero heaved out a sigh. He stood and paced toward the door. Prompto watched him, watched his tense shoulders slacken while he shook his head, blond hair fanning out gently in the dim lighting. Fero turned and looked at Prompto with a grim, tiny smile.

“You’re really something.”

“You should come,” Prompto leaned forward, “To Lucis, I mean”

“One monarchy for another?” Fero shook his head, “They’re all the same.”

“No. They’re nothing like the Empire. Man, you could- you could start over. There’s tons of refugees in the city. You wouldn’t have to... “ Prompto gestured helplessly at the room around them, “You could do something different.”

Prompto watched Fero’s fingers twitch at his sides. The guy was considering it.

“You said you wanted to warn the Prince,” Fero changed topics.

“Yeah,” Prompto nodded, “The Empire’s trying to do something. Trying to start something inside the walls. I don’t know the details, but if Noct- if they knew what to look for, they’d have a chance. If Niflheim … if they win, there’s no one left to stop them. You said they cross the line, right? With their research?”

Fero looked over, guarded.

“Lucis doesn’t do that. They’re the only ones left who can stop it.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“Because Noct would never do that. Ever. And if he tried, I’d kick his ass in King’s Knight til he changed his mind.”

Fero studied him intensely. He bowed his head and sniffed out a laugh while a grin tugged at his lips. 

“Fair enough.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Well look who decided to show up!”

“Honestly, do you ever stop?” Fero sighed.

“Nah,” Sacchi trotted over and slung an arm around his shoulder, “But seriously. Where you guys been?”

“Just talking,” Prompto supplied.

“‘Talking’ ... just “ _ talking,”  _ huh?” Sacchi shoved off of Fero and pointed an accusatory finger in his face. “Where’s your loyalty!” he groaned and turned, scooping up Prompto’s hands, “It was your first time, right? Was he at least gentle?”

“My- my first..-” Prompto sputtered and went beet red, mouth flapping even after Fero grabbed Sacchi by the scruff and pulled him off. 

“Okay, children. Time to get your shit together.”

The three of them glanced over. Satia was dressed to the nines, makeup and hair touched up impressively. She thumbed aside where the bartenders and security already started making an appearance. 

“Almost time to open,” she added.

Man, he and Fero really must’ve been in there a long time. Prompto adjusted his hat and trotted over to the group.

“So anyway, what’s the plan?” Sacchi asked him, “You gonna be hanging out in the back or…?”

Prompto shook his head. “No, I’ll be helping out- bussing tables,” he raised a rag in one hand, “ I, uh - I kinda wanna observe. Get to know the clientele.”

Sacchi made a face, “Why?” 

Prompto shrugged, not eager to lie, but he wasn’t sure just how much to share. Which made him feel bad. Lying by omission was still lying, right?

“Can’t hurt,” he offered. 

“Try to avoid drawing attention to yourself,” Fero said, “Pravus obviously had eyes on you.”

“Yeah, you’re still pretty hot even in that hat,” Sacchi added, tilting his head, “And- those my clothes? Man, I knew those’d be big on you. Looks good, though. Not exactly clubbing gear, but, ya know. Whatever.”

Prompto plucked at the hoodie, “Yeah- right. Thanks for letting me-”

Sacchi held up a hand, “No thanks needed, remember?” 

He smiled and trotted off. 

A few customers were already spilling in through the door, the happy hour crowd who were here for a drink and a drink alone. No more, no less. It was still early, after all.

“How you feeling?” Fero asked, lingering a little longer, “That VIP thing is news to me. I still have time to drop you off back at the apartment.”

“I’m fine,” Prompto shook his head and lowered his voice. “Like I said before, first place to start is getting a feeling for the under the table crowd. I just need to find someone who can smuggle people out of Gralea,” he cracked a hesitant grin, “No biggie, right?”

Fero frowned but nodded. 

“Right. Well, I’m in the back the rest of the night. If you need me, find me.” Fero disappeared to the back to finish getting ready.

Prompto watched him go and turned to examine the few patrons filing in.  _ The Reactor  _ was only slightly less seedy than  _ Mako  _ in the back, but the lack of nudity up in this part of the club made it a little easier to breath. The lights were dimmed. The dance lights overhead wouldn’t come on til it was time for the ‘late’ crowd. 

He wandered through the sparse crowd and wiped down random tables. It surprised him just how … well he fit in around here. Niffs were definitely a fair people, light haired and light eyed more often than not. Not everyone was as good looking as Fero or Sacchi or Satia, but the features were there. 

Prompto stood out like a sore thumb in Lucis. How weird that there was one comfort this place could offer that home couldn’t.

Eventually, the after work crowd petered out and the club fell strangely quiet. A sort of lull before the storm. It wasn’t exactly quiet like it was before opening. There were a few people scattered in the dark, but with the lights were flashing and the music thrumming and without the dancing crowd to fill it out, it just felt haunted and empty.

Not that that lasted long.

“Ah-sor..sorry, dude, my bad,” Prompto chimed three hours later while trying to elbow his way through the mass of people. 

The guy he bumped into barely noticed him, too busy ripping a shot and stumbling back one too many steps. 

Which, of course, pushed Prompto face-first into a girl who  _ did  _ notice him and was not at all happy about it.

“Asshole!” 

“Shit, sor-!”

Prompto sputtered, stumbling back and rubbing at his face now drenched with something sticky and sweet and absolutely reeking of vodka. He wiped his face with his sleeve and looked down at himself. He shuddered with a gross, humid chill as he plucked the soaked hoodie away from his chest.

Man, Sacchi was gonna be … well he probably wouldn’t be pissed, the guy was so chiil, but Prompto still felt like crap about ruining his sweater. 

Suddenly, the crowd started to part, big, bulky dudes walling off a pathway for a handful of people to cross through. 

Had to be the VIPs. 

They headed straight for the back.

The already shoulder-to-shoulder crowd condensed even more. Sopping wet, Prompto got squished between a guy who had definitely opted out of deodorant and a girl who’d gone the other extreme with enough perfume to choke on. 

Prompto, agile (and sober), managed to wriggle his way through to get a look. 

Okay, yeah- he’d gotten his fill of Niflheim VIPs at the dinner party and the other stupid social things Fraus and Terreo made him attend, but … 

He was nosy. Sue him. 

Even if he ran the risk of that whole … curiosity killed the cat thing.

Which it did, just now, as he caught eyes with the Imperial Chancellor.

Prompto jerked back and tugged his hat down, immediately looking away. It was dark in here- it was loud and hot and noisy. There was no way the guy’d recognize him from just a few seconds of eye contact alone, right?

Right. He had to believe that or else he ran the risk of actually drawing attention to himself by freaking out.

It  _ had  _ to be that guy. Of all people, it had to be the Chancellor. Ardyn. Of course it did. Wouldn’t be Prompto’s life if it was literally anyone else on the planet. 

Well, maybe if it was the Emperor himself. 

Anyway. 

Slinking back into the crowd, Prompto tucked some of his vibrant blond hair up under the hat, as much as he could to just get it out of his face and make him look like any one of the other anonymous club-goers. 

He got a glimpse the others following in the Chancellor’s footsteps. Two other men he didn’t recognize flanked Ardyn (neither were Prompto’s “retainers” thankfully). And then followed a woman, mean-looking but beautiful, her silver hair bound back and slender arms set across her chest. She didn’t say much, just had a bored, thousand-yard stare set dead ahead. 

They were gone just as fast as they’d appeared, all of them disappearing behind those curtains and into  _ Mako.  _

For some reason, the thought of the Chancellor, all eccentricities and poetry, in the back club was both hysterical and terrifying. Prompto cringed at the thought.

Well. Anyway. Now he knew they were here he knew to avoid the back room like the plague. He knew who to be on the lookout for.

The crowd moved back into place when the VIPs were gone, their path disappearing.  Prompto tried to put them out of his mind. He had a mission.

He started in the back, the same place he’d had that … run in with Claud two nights ago. Maybe if Claud’d been sulking out of the spotlight, there’d be others like him back there tonight. 

The few tables in back, all of them ringed with people, were under cover of shadow and out of the disco light’s reach. Only a few of the groups stood out as being less rowdy than the younger college-aged drinkers.

At one table in particular sat two big guys, both of them cut from the same cloth as Claud and Terreo and the rest.

Prompto held his breath. No time like the present.

He made his way over, the music somewhat muted back here but still loud enough to pulse through his skull. He lingered at the table next to the big dudes which earned him a weird look from the trio of girls who’d been using it. The girls scowled at him, though said nothing and turned away from him quick enough. 

Prompto leaned back just bit and strained to see if he could hear them.

“-ucking Chancellor come in?”

“Makes for an interestin’ night.”

“Yeah.”

“Any new jobs come up for you?” one of them asked, lowering his voice, “Been a little quiet since-”

A new song  come on with admittedly sick beats, but it was too loud. He couldn’t hear them. 

So, okay. Six, this was so… awkward and stupid, but-

“Uh. Hey!” 

They looked up, brows raised. Prompto knew he probably made a sight. His hoodie was still stained and wet, after all. And the hat. No one else was wearing a hat. Why was he wearing a hat? Ugh-

They said nothing, one staring curiously and the other openly scowling.

Okay, well. He had to say something.

“So... you- you guys look like you know your way around town,” Prompto tried, “Thought maybe you might know my friend.”

The guys exchanged a glance with each other, the curious one looking more curious. Somehow. The scowling one looked back at Prompto, but his expression faltered, a flash of realization crossing him. 

“Not interested,” he bit out.

Prompto bit his lip. They- they looked like they might know. He had to try. At least one more time.

“Yeah,” Prompto laughed, “I’m not from around here. I just wanted to ask if you guys-”

“Always with this fuckin’ place,” the scowling one sighed in annoyance. He leaned forward and glared at Prompto, “Keep your whore shit to the back room, fag. We’re not interested, got it?”

Prompto blinked, mouth agape.

“I’m … I’m not…” 

The guy got to his feet. Prompto scrambled back, the wiring in his brain short circuiting. He turned and booked it, weaving through the crowd.

He ended up in the hallway that connected the two clubs. The only quiet place to just stop for a second and breathe.

Wow. What an asshole. What an  _ asshole _ ,  _ what an _ -

Well. That went well.

Prompto pressed the heel of his palms against his closed eyes. 

How?

How was he ever gonna get out of here? 

He’d avoided Ardyn- and Pravus and all the rest, but just barely. Just by the skin of his teeth. 

Sheer, dumb luck. 

How long would that last? How long until he was back locked up in some room, dressed up in fancy, suffocating clothes with MTs pointing a gun at his back or a creepy old dude sitting on his bed or more horrific war plans or-  

Okay. Not the time. 

He’d never get out if he lost it. He could lose his mind and panic and freak out when he got home, once Noct and Insomnia and everyone were safe. 

Prompto dropped his hands and stared blearily up at the ceiling, nothing but black overhead, pounding dance music in one direction and sultry bass in the other. 

“Move it, kid.”

Prompto practically jumped out of his skin. He stumbled back against the wall, eyes darting to the end of the hall.

It was the woman with silver hair. She was watching him, annoyed.

“Aren’t you a little young for a place like this?”

Prompto straightened out and stared at her. This was one of the VIPs, right? He’d never seen her before, but what if she’d seen him? What if she recognized him? 

He kept his head down, eyes shadowed by the rim of the hat and the dim hallway lights.

“Commodore Highwind?” 

Someone stood at the far end of the hall, the door to  _ Mako  _ opened and the consuming thrum of music now filling the quiet little corridor. 

The woman turned, Prompto’s eyes following her. Commodore, huh?

“Chancellor Izunia is requesting your return. It seems the dignitaries-”

“The dignitaries can shove it up their ass,” the Commodore called back, “Not really my scene back there. Chancellor wants me, he can come find me up front.” She started walking, brushed past Prompto with measured steps, “I’ll be at the bar.”

Prompto swallowed, caught sight of the pale-faced, gloomy messenger at the other end of the hall who disappeared to deliver the news.

Alone again. 

Well, at least the Commodore didn’t recognize him. It made sense- his whole PR fiasco ruse thing probably didn’t penetrate very far into the military. Why would it? 

Prompto leaned his back against the wall, a chill creeping across his skin. His hoodie was still damp, definitely would stink like alcohol for the foreseeable future. He stared ahead, eyes on the opposite wall.

He had to try again. He had to find a way.

Prompto turned for  _ The Reactor _ . He passed through the door and the curtains beyond.

He didn’t make it far.

A hand snaked around his upper arm, the grip ironclad. A sharp tug and Prompto was flush against someone, their chest at his back. The chill disappeared in an instant, instead a shock of uneasy warm shooting through him.

Prompto turned, eyes flicking up and growing wide at the sight that met him.

“Say a word and I drag you to the Chancellor myself,” Claud hissed in his ear.

No tinge of booze on his breath this time.

Prompto complied, muscles stock still and tense as Claud led him around the perimeter of the club, deftly avoiding the people drinking and dancing. To anyone, there was nothing suspicious to see. One friend helping out his buddy, maybe who’d had a little too much to drink.

_ Breathe. Just breathe. _

Claud pulled him in through a door, a big red ‘EXIT’ sign gleaming over top. The club disappeared, replaced with a stairwell. They shimmied past a couple swapping spit and went down, down, two flights of stairs- four- til they hit the lowest they could go. 

Prompto counted his breaths. When they finally stopped, he dared to jerk his arm out of Claud’s grip. He struggled but succeeded. Claud snapped his gaze toward him, surprised then furious.

Then Claud dove in, forearm locked across Prompto’s throat as he shoved him against the wall.

“Here’s how this is gonna go, superstar,” Claud huffed, free hand sweeping Prompto’s bangs from his eyes, thumb brushing the curve of his cheek.

“You play the game, you walk outta here a free man.” He leaned in, “You don’t play along? There’sa one way ticket back to the Keep with your name on it.”

Prompto swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing against the guys’ thick arm. He curled his fingers around it, tried to pry himself free, to push, to anything.

“Claud,” he hissed, struggling for breath, “Don’t… why are you doing this?” 

“‘Cause I hate you,” Claud mumbled against his throat, free hand sliding down, down- further.

“‘Cause I hate the Empire,” Claud continued, “‘Cause I can.”

Prompto squeezed his eyes shut. 

“No- Stop! Stop, listen,” he panted, “I - we’re on the same team, dude. I… I hate them, too. I’m trying- I’m tryin’ to stop them, but you gotta- damn it, stop! Listen!”

Prompto sucked in a breath and gripped tight at Claud’s arm when his free hand wandered south. Claud pawed at his pants, fingers plucking at his zipper. He tugged it down, slowly, down,  _ down, down _ .

“You Niffs. Parasites- destroyin’ Lucis,” Claud breathed, lips pressing kisses against his throat and moving to his mouth. “I hate you,” he whispered against Prompto’s lips.

“I hate me too,” Prompto whispered back. He gripped hard, nails digging into Claud’s skin, “The Empire… that’s… that’s why I’m trying to stop them… So please,” he choked, “ _ stop _ .”

Claud stilled, drew back only a hair’s breadth. 

“Stop them?” he said, incredulous.

Prompto locked eyes, pushed through everything else bubbling up in his gut and shoved it down…  _ down.. down. _

“The Empire’s got plans. If I can get to Lucis I can warn them.”

Claud narrowed his eyes and presser in harder. Prompto choked out a sputtering yelp, struggled to breathe.

“Why? You’re a Niff. Why?”

“I’m a  _ Lucian _ ,” Prompto grit his teeth. 

“You’re not shit,” Claud hissed, lip curling, “Just a slippery Niff, just like the rest of’em. I’ll show you a Lucian. A real one.”

He dove in with a vengence. Of course he remembered. He had to have. He - 

This wasn’t happening. There was no one here, though. No one around. He couldn’t- if he screamed, then what? The cops show up? The MTs? 

Screw it. He was on his own.

Prompto let his legs give out and went limp in Claud’s arms. It caught him off guard, just like Prompto hoped. 

Claud staggered, eyes growing wide as he struggled to support Prompto’s dead weight. His grip loosened, not much- but enough. 

Prompto found his footing and jumped, driving one knee in between Claud’s lgs. He drove it forward, diving ahead with the motion, free leg kicking him off the wall behind him.

Claud howled in pain, both hands flying to clutch between his own legs and freeing Prompto up at last.

Prompto flailed and stumbled to his feet, heart pounding in his ears so fast he could hear his own blood rushing. He took up a stance, squared off, and sent a punch soaring.

It connected, echoed with a loud, distinct  **_crack_ ** _!  _

Followed by:

“Ah,  _ fuck! Sh-shit fuck! _ ”

Prompto drew back and watched Claud crumble. His hands trembled, blood on his knuckles.

“Maybe,” Prompto heaved wildly, about to explode, “Maybe if you stopped being such a self-loathing piece of shit you’d figure out we want the same thing.”

Claud looked up, eyes hazy and wet with tears. His face was scrunched up in pain, one hand clutching his nose, blood seeping through his fingers like a faucet.

Prompto glared at him, a surge of adrenaline making every hair stand on end, every breath fill his lungs to bursting.

“I want Lucis safe. I’ll die to make sure that happens. If you don’t wanna help then stay the hell out of my way.”

One last kick.

And Claud was out. 

Prompto stared down at him, panting. 

Broken nose. He just broke the guy’s nose.

He just knocked someone out. The one guy who could turn him in - the one guy who had a _reason_ to turn him in.

Prompto took a knee, ignored his buzzing brain, ignored the alarm bells going off inside it, and dug through the guy’s pockets. He plucked out Claud’s wallet, thin and worn, and straightened out to just stare.

He turned and sprinted up the stairs.

He screwed up. 

Big time. 

Prompto tore through the club, heart thundering in his chest. He raced through  _ Mako _ , head down, eyes down, stuck to the shadows plowed through with abandon to the green room.

Fero wasn’t in there. Neither was Sacchi. Shit-  _ Shit _ , he had to - he had to-

“Tiny?” 

Prompto snapped his head toward Satia, wild-eyed, face flush and hurried breaths brushing past his lips.

“Tell- Can you tell Fero- tell them I’m… I had to go, okay?”

Satia stood from the sofa, brows knit. She reached out gently but Prompto jerked back and shook his head.

“..Tiny-”

“Please.”

She swallowed and nodded.

Prompto nodded in return, one short, jerky move. He snatched Fero’s jacked and fished out the keys. He turned and darted out the emergency exit, left it swinging open, a blustery winter wind blowing inside until it closed behind him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Noctis. How long has it been, my son?”

Noct eased into the chair opposite his father. He struggled to keep his face neutral, but he could see it in the twitch of his father’s brow. Couldn’t get anything past him.

“Something troubling you?”

Noct raised a brow, lips parting as he fumbled for the words. 

“Why else would my son call for dinner with his boring old father on a Saturday night?” Regis smiled, fond and tired, “I only apologize for not having been available earlier this week.”

“It’s fine,” Noct said finally. He let his gaze fall to the plate in front of him, the ornate dish covered in a layer of gourmet something-or-other. 

And then quiet. Noct poked at his peas and shrank under the weight of his father’s gaze.

“Ahem,” Regis tried, lip curling in a smile.

“I, uh… I wanted to talk.”

Regis gestured for the Prince to continue. Which he would. Just. He needed a sec.

“About the security situation with the immigrants. The refugee district.”

Noct watched the hint of a shadow creep in the ever-growing lines on his father’s face.

“Ah,” Regis hummed.

“The whole… Niff thing is really stirring things up. People are getting touchy around immigrants. I’ve seen it first hand in school. And just… in general.”

His father’s face was somber, but guarded. Noct couldn’t read it any longer.

“I just… are we doing the right thing? All that security- it’s gonna make those people feel, I don’t know… separate or something. Divided.”

“I’m aware.”

“All because of-” Noct trailed off. He looked up, gaze stormy, “Because of some Empire lies. Now everyone’s suffering.”

“Noctis,” Regis sighed, soft and short, “We cannot afford to misstep. Not with the possibility of a threat arising within the walls.”

“Prompto’s not-”

“I know,” Regis said, locking eyes with his son, “I  _ know _ . But-”

Noct opened his mouth. He stopped short when his father held up his hand.

“ _ But _ \- we cannot ignore that the Empire has chosen a course of action in this instance. Regardless if their move was planned or opportunistic, it is our duty to protect our people.”

Regis folded his hands in front of him.

“Be it from foe or friend.” 

Noct frowned at his peas.

They ate and exchanged the usual niceties. Talked about grades (oh boy) and girls ( _ oh boy _ ) and everything else that usually gave Noct at least some small comfort that he didn’t have to have dinner with his father  _ every  _ night.

They finished the final course, two cups of piping hot tea and two small plates of some exotic desert planted in front of either of them. 

The King watched his son prod at the dessert and pick it apart til it was in pieces. He smiled as Noct ate a single mouthful and munched on it, face scrunched up in concentration.

“Not up to par with Ignis’ cooking?”

Noct glanced over, sheepish, and swallowed the lump of sugary tart. “It’s good.”

Regis nodded and set down his cup of tea. 

“I’ll speak with Captain Drautos.”

“Captain…” Noct lowered his fork and looked over, “The Glaive Captain?”

“The same,” the King confirmed, “I will encourage him to hurry with this security situation. You were right to bring this to my attention, Noctis. We must put no further strain on our most vulnerable citizens than absolutely necessary.” Regis stood to take his leave. He paused, eyes on his son, “There is something to be said for a man who can empathize with the plight of others.”

Noct stood as well.

“Thanks. For dinner. And just...” Noct shifted his weight, “Thanks.” 

Regis bowed his head, just a touch, that same fond smile pulling at his features. He’d almost left the dining hall when Noct called out.

“Dad?”

The King turned, surprised.

“…Prompto?” 

Regis faced his son.

“His situation remains tenuous.” 

Noct let his gaze fall, hands fisted at his sides.

“Do not give up hope, Noctis.”

The King departed and Noct was alone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Prompto sat in the bathroom hugging his knees to himself and breathing. Just breathing. He had the door locked, the light off, and the shower running. He was sweating in the steam, but it was cold. It was still cold somehow.

He shifted, one hand sliding to his pocket. He withdrew Claud’s wallet and pried it open with trembling fingers.

It was only a matter of time before everything unraveled. He had to hurry.

He’d… he’d save the breakdown for later. Hopefully never. 

The wallet was a standard affair at first glance. An ID with that familiar smug, asshole face stared back up at him. Prompto looked at it longer than he meant to. 

He turned the wallet over to pick through the cards.

Metro. Credit Cards. Key card with a… barcode. Not quite like Prompto’s, but close enough. Looked like it was for an apartment or maybe a motel or something. Niflheim thing, huh.

Finally. There.

Business cards. Two of them. 

One for Minatio’s businesses-  _ MINA Inc. _ Prompto took that one out and set it beside him.

The other:

_ Eos Oceanic Movers _

The same moving company that’d been their cover for the truck back in Lucis. Felt like a lifetime ago. 

It had to be a front company for smuggling. If Claud had the card, did that mean he was part of the company or did he just use them? The guy was a bounty hunter. It wouldn’t make sense to stick with one company. Probably.

Either way, better than nothing.

Prompto closed the wallet and set it on the floor in front of him. He stared at it, numb.

It was over. How much time did he have? How long til Claud raised the alarm and MTs were busting down the doors?

He couldn’t… he couldn’t do this to Sacchi. To Fero. They’d been nothing but nice, nothing but helpful and kind and warm in the midst of all the crap. A haven. And Prompto was, what? Gonna repay them by sicking the Empire’s goons on them? 

If… if that did happen, what would it mean for Fero? The guy barely  escaped the military by the skin of his teeth.

Judging from what he’d been told, Fero wasn’t exactly granted a leave of absence. 

An AWOL officer and an escapee. They made a great pair, huh.

There was a bang at the door. The front door- to the apartment.

Prompto froze. His heart stopped. He stared at the bathroom door and listened, strained to hear over the shower.

Another bang. The door slammed open.

Footsteps, heavy thuds fell on the creaky old floorboards.

Someone was inside. Someone  _ was inside, someone- _

“Tiny!” 

Prompto held his breath.

“Fuck, Tiny? you in there? You little- what the- open the door, man!”

“Sacchi?” Prompto whispered too quiet for anyone to hear. 

The bathroom door rattled. Prompto watched it and eventually stood. Unsteady steps carried him to the door. He unlocked it, pulled it open and caught eyes with Sacchi who huffed out in a furious sigh.

“ _ Fuck,  _ Tiny!” he huffed with a relieved smile. He raked a hand through his hair. “Don’t  _ do _ that, man! Six! Tia said you just busted ass out of the club- we didn't even see you go through _Mako._ We thought- well, fuck. I didn’t know-... What the hell happened?”

“Is he there?”

That was Fero. 

“Yeah, he’s… well, not fine, but alive,” Sacchi called as he eased around Prompto. He shut off the shower and got soaked soaked in the process. He turned to take Prompto by the hand. “C’mon. Fuck.”

Prompto followed numbly along and sat when they reached the loveseat, Sacchi beside him and Fero shedding his jacket before locking the apartment door.

When he turned to face them, Fero’s face was grim and stony. He folded his arms across his chest.

“What happened?”

“I can’t stay,” Prompto blurted, frantic. He closed his eyes.  _ Breathe.  _ “I can’t- Claud was there. He recognized me. He’s gonna tell the Chancellor- they’re - they’ll come looking. They’ll come here. I can’t- I gotta-”

“Woah, hey! Slow down, man,” Sacchi cut in, “The Chancellor? As in Chancellor Izunia? What’s Claud gonna tell him?”

Prompto looked to Fero, pleading. Fero sat down on the chair opposite and crossed his legs.

“You want to tell him or should I?”

Sacchi looked between them, lost.

“Tell me what?”

Prompto let his gaze linger on Fero before turning aside.

“You, uh… you know about that whole… Empire hero thing? The Lucian spy?” 

Sacchi frowned, “I mean, I heard about it, ya know? I don’t really read the news. S’all bullshit.”

“Yeah. It, uh…,” Prompto cleared his throat, “turns out it’s me.” 

Sacchi’s stared at him hard like he was waiting for a punchline. When it never came, his eyebrows shot up.

“You… you were-”

“It’s all lies,” Prompto chimed, “I was… It’s propaganda stuff. I never- I’m not a spy, but that’s just… that’s what they’re saying. Chancellor and the media and stuff. It’s not true.”

Sacchi looked to Fero as if expecting him to bust out laughing. Fero had his jaw set, eyes locked on Prompto.

“So… what, then? You’re like… an escaped convict or something?” 

“More or less, I guess,” Prompto bowed his head, “I’m trying to get out of Gralea. To get back to Lucis.”

“Back to?”

Prompto nodded, eyes down, “It’s my home. I grew up there.”

“Fucking Six…”

“There’s more,” Fero muttered. Prompto looked up, Sacchi too, but far more incredulous.

“Are you kidding-!”

“The Empire’s trying to stir the pot,” Fero said, “Apparently, they mean to take the Crown City. Or at least weaken it.”

Sacchi raked a hand through his hair, “I thought… weren’t things getting lighter, ya know? I mean we basically won already, right? What’s the point?”

He paused, eyes going wide and shot a look to Prompto.

“And- like, if that’s true, why the fuck do you wanna go back?”

“My friends are there,” Prompto said, “It’s my home. If I can… I don’t know, if I can help then I’ve gotta do what I can. Even if it’s just… if it’s nothing.”

“Lucis is the Empire’s last opponent,” Fero said, gaze shifting to Sacchi, “I know you don’t always  follow the news, but you do follow gossip. You’ve heard the rumors.. I know you have. Disappearances. People going missing.”

Sacchi pressed his lips in a thin line.

“Yeah. I know about that.”

Fero’s expression softened, but he continued. “The Empire aren’t the good guys here. It’s not Niflheim- it’s the Empire. Tiny here says the Lucian royals aren’t the same.”

He paused and smiled, eyes flicking to Prompto.

“We don’t have much to lose by believing that,” Fero finished.

Sacchi looked over too, brows furrowed and fingers fidgeting in his lap. 

“Uh, I’ve got a plan. To get out. A place to start,” Prompto said, “But… I might need some help. You guys don’t have to. I think- tonight made things worse probably, but I guess silver linings, but you don’t-”

“Fuckin’ hell, Tiny,” Sacchi shook his head and laughed. “I’m in, man. I’m in.”

Prompto smiled, small and crooked.

“It’s, uh… you can call me Prompto.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boys night out?
> 
> Your comments give me life. Just think, every comment it one less blood sacrifice to the writing gods!  
> Fo real, though. You guys are the best.


	12. Interlude: Official Descriptions & Trivia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Below we have a fact sheet for our ever growing roster of OCs that inhabit the tale. Follow on notes with an update at the bottom.

 

 

Terreo Amentia  
Age: 32   
Height: 6’4   
Hair: Blond   
Eyes: Green   
Home: Gralea

 

> Son of a highly recognized Niflheim academic, Terreo strayed from the carefully laid plans of his now deceased father to find a life of freedom. For years, he lived in the thrilling but meaningless  underground world of bounty hunting. Lacking purpose, he looks to his father’s teachings of the Empire’s aim for Utopia to find meaning. With time, he sees what his father once saw and strives to make this dream a reality.

 

Claudius Praelia  
Age: 36  
Height: 6’4  
Hair: Red / Ginger  
Eyes: Brown  
Home: Insomnia

 

> Once a proud member of the Crownsguard, Claud was released from duty following an injury received on duty. Bitter from his circumstances and furious with perceived weakness of current Lucian royalty, he put his experience and skills to work in the black market not caring who gets hurt in the process.

 

Pravus Minatio   
Age: 47  
Height: 5’5  
Hair: Blond  
Eyes: Brown  
Home: Gralea

 

> Summary: A talented businessman, Pravus inherited his family’s conglomerate at a young age and has increased its influence into almost all realms of business. A penchant for the sultry excitement of the black market, his ties to the underground are an open secret.  

 

Fraus Vanus  
Age: 34  
Height: 6’2  
Hair: Brown  
Eyes: Dark brown  
Home: Altissia

 

> Brimming with ambition, a young Fraus ran away to Gralea leaving behind his common family in Altissa. He has earned a reputation as a skilled networker - the guy who knows a guy - and is always on the lookout to make more contacts as he tries to climb into the upper rungs of society.

 

Secor Avidus   
Age: 31  
Height: 6’0  
Hair: Brown  
Eyes:Amber / brown  
Home: Galahd

 

> No matter the job, If it pays well then Secor gets it done. Raised by his uncle in the shipping trade, stories about the opportunities in Imperial Gralea inspired him to get his piece of the proverbial pie with the blessing of his relatives.  

 

Fero Pietas  
Age: 24  
Height: 6’0  
Hair: Blond  
Eyes: Blue  
Home: Gralea

 

> Raised by influential parents in Niflheim’s upper class, Fero became an officer in the Imperial Military after graduating from the Empire’s most prestigious of schools. On his first tour of duty he witnessed the horrors of the Empire first hand and risked everything by going AWOL. Now a wanted man, he questions his decision and hopes that Lucis is the lesser of two evils.

 

Saccharo Lapsio  
Age: 20  
Height: 6’1  
Hair: Blond  
Eyes: Blue  
Home: Gralea

 

> Familiar with the streets of Gralea, a young Saccharo fell on hard times and found a way to make things work. Always a thrill seeker, he looks for ways to keep life interesting within the Empire’s bleak, cold walls. Used to being alone, he holds the friend’s he’s made at the club close to his heart, always trying to lift their spirits.

 

Satia Fletus  
Age: 21  
Height: 5’4  
Hair: Blond / White  
Eyes: Blue  
Home: Gralea

 

> Disowned after a falling out with her parents, Satia struggled from job to job until finding her way to the club. The pay was great, but the family she found was better. Easily irked but kind, Satia keeps her nose down. She saves every gil earned in hopes of leaving the city for a freer life outside the capital.

 

_T R I V I A -_

Translate their names for a little more insight into who they are. It's ~~pig~~ Latin, sure, but hey 

NAMES ARE JUST LATIN NOT PIG LATIN IM A DUMMY!!! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You people are AMAZING thank you so much for your response to this, I am literally shooting out lightening bolts of joy from my fingertips as a result. 
> 
> In any case, I wanted to check in because this week's chapter *may* be delayed a week. I am hoping to get it out this Friday, however if that's not the case it will definitely be out sometime the following week. I've got a cross country drive and a long, *long* trip away to plan, pack and prepare for, so while I have the next chapter planned out, the creative brain has been focused on how best to fold enough clothes for four months into a backpack.
> 
> Anyway - again, I'm having such joy writing this and seeing your responses. Have a lovely, lovely weekend and I'll see you all soon.
> 
> Oh, one last thing - I'm kinda planning an Episode Terreo, Episode Sacchi, et cetera. So... there's that :)


	13. Logistics

“Where’s princess?”

“Having dinner with his majesty tonight.”

Ignis shuffled through the stack of reports in front of him and turned to the newest one. He paused upon receiving no reply, brow raised as he glanced over to Gladio who loitered in the doorway.

“Need something?”

“Nothin’,” Gladio shook his head and folded thick arms across his chest, “Just a little surprised. On a Saturday night? Noct didn’t mention anything about it.”

Ignis looked back at the report. “It was a little spur of the moment. Apparently he had an enlightening day yesterday.”

“Oh yeah?” Gladio wandered in the rest of the way and sat down at the table opposite Ignis.

“That’s what his escort told me at least.”

“One of the Glaives, right?”

“Ulric,” Ignis confirmed, “Noct has some concerns about the city’s security situation.”

Gladio sniffed and leaned back, “I knew that much. He still hung up on the kid?”

“He is, but Prompto isn’t his only worry,” Ignis offered, “He raises some valid points. I’ve seen what he’s mentioned as well, though not to the same extent. As have our intelligence officers.”

He thumbed through the stack of papers until finding the one he sought. He nudged it over across the table.

“Troubled relations between the populace increase the possibility of sympathizers. People have strong loyalties to their homelands. Certainly to their new homes as well, but when they’re made to feel unwelcome at best…”

Ignis trailed off and let the implication hang in the air.

“Yeah,” Gladio scanned the report, “Guess this is what it took to get his highness interested in politics, huh.”

“It would’ve happened at some point,” Ignis said, “It’s just unfortunate he’s had to lose a friend in the process.”

Gladio nodded in agreement, amber eyes flicking to the papers.

“Speaking of- any news on blondie?”

He raised a brow when Ignis gripped the report a little too tight.

“Iggy?”

“Yes, but,” he paused, searching for the words, “there seems to be some… inconsistencies regarding the narrative.”

“Meaning?”

Ignis sighed. He removed his glasses, fingers pressing at tired eyes in hopes of relieving the pressure.

“The Empire’s put out some damning publications. Articles and interviews. Things of that nature,” Ignis said, “but there haven’t been any new pictures of Prompto. Every new story uses the same photographs, recycling the few we’ve already seen at least a dozen times. There’s been nothing online to corroborate these supposed events, either.”

“Online? Aren’t the articles-”

“They are,” Ignis agreed, reaching down and wiping his glasses with the bottom of his shirt, a _rare_ practice, “I mean in regards to social media or forums. Things like that. Niflheim’s media and news organizations are reporting on numerous events Prompto attended, but outside of those articles, there’s nothing out there indicating such events ever even occurred. No tickets. No photos or adverts. Nothing.”

Gladio frowned at the table.

“It doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” Ignis continued and slipped his glasses on, “It’s just… this all provides some credibility to Noct’s suspicions regarding… everything.”

“It’s suspicious, yeah,” Gladio agreed, “But what else could it be? Practically caught the kid red handed. He’s in Gralea, we know that much for sure, right?”

Ignis nodded.

“So… what? Not exactly an easy trip to make, Iggy. Takes connections.”

Ignis caught his gaze and Gladio’s frown deepened.

“I have a theory.”

Gladio bowed his head, features tight.

“You’ll recall Noct and I were followed a little over a month ago?”

“Yeah. Never did track the guy down, did we?” Gladio mused.

“No, we didn’t,” Ignis confirmed. He laced his fingers together in front of him. “Noct and Prompto attended a movie that evening. Before that, they were at an arcade. Chuts, I believe.”

Gladio snorted. “Chuts?”

Ignis made a face but pressed on. “And after, I gave Prompto a ride home.” He frowned, recalling the sensation of being tailed. Never a pleasant experience. “That was the last we saw of Prompto. According to his former employer, he attended work the following morning only to be let go. He disappeared sometime shortly after.”

“You thinking that had something to do with it?”

“The timing does seem to be coincidental.”

Gladio scowled at the reports, the implications of it all too unpleasant to think about. It was bad enough people went after Noct, but that just kinda came with the royal territory. But going after some defenseless kid?

“Why him?”

Ignis shook his head, “Perhaps they saw an opportunity.” He shifted and crossed his legs, “But I have my reservations. We weren’t being followed by trained agents. They were skilled, but unpolished. Easy enough to notice. And I’d be wary to think any Empire spies would be able to sneak in and pull something like this off without our knowing.”

“So what’re you thinking?”

“Terrorists, maybe. Could be traffickers. I’m not sure.”

Gladio leaned back in his chair, eyes hard on Iggy’s face.

“You think the kid got nabbed,” he determined.

“I think,” Ignis mused, “it would be wise to leave all possibilities on the table.”

 

* * *

 

“Imperial Central Station?”

“Yeah, I know, right? No one ever accused Niffs of bein’ clever.”

Prom glanced over and Sacchi met him with a grin.

“Anyway, keep your head down, Tiny. Last thing we need is you getting your perky little ass recognized.”

Prompto flushed and tugged down on his hat. Man, he was developing a bad habit with that.

“You don’t have to keep calling me that.”

“I know,” Sacchi shrugged and started walking off, “I just wanna. C’mon.”

Huffing a sigh, Prompto hurried after him.

The station was massive, every bit as big as Insomnia’s main railway station. It was right smack in the middle of downtown, which was admittedly a little nerve wracking, but the Monday morning crowd made it easy enough to blend in- especially during what he guessed was rush hour.

The digital signs overhead flashed between times and destinations in bright red. There were tons of cities and towns he wasn’t familiar with, but it looked like a lot of people were commuting in from the countryside. What kind of work brought people into the city? Was it the same as Insomnia? Marketing and tech- all that kind of stuff?

And how many worked on Magitek?

Sacchi tugged on his arm and motioned to one of the signs, the second in from the right.

“So, what? You wanna go all the way to the coast or..?”

Prompto looked up at the sign, brows pinched. “I’m not sure. Whatever’s easier… I mean if I can get to the coast that’d be ideal, right?” He paused and looked over. “But first things first, I gotta get a phone. If I can get a hold of Noct, he might be able to help- he’s basically got his own personal strategist on call”

“Yeah, okay,” Sacchi agreed, “Problem is you’re gonna have to get a phone outside the city.”

Prompto frowned. “Why?”

“Can’t get any phones in town that’ll make calls to Lucis,” Sacchi said, “It’s stupid, but I guess it makes sense. Sanctions and war and all that stuff.”

“Seriously?”

That sucked. That _really_ sucked. He’d kinda hoped… if he could just get word to Noct, just give him a heads up-

“Hey, don’t freak out,” Sacchi added, “You just can’t get’em _in the city_. We can order you one online, though.”

Prompto glanced over, “Yeah?”

“Mhm. Dark web.”

“Wow… I guess that makes sense, but… security’s kinda tight here, isn’t it?”

Sacchi set him with a look, brow raised, “You got smuggled in, right? There’s cracks, Tiny. Just gotta know where to look.”

They both glanced to the ticketing booths. Each vendor had their own Imperial Border Control guard at the ready.

“I can probably get a ticket, but you and Fairy’re gonna be outta luck.”

“Yeah.”

“Speaking of, you heard from him?”

They made their way out of the station and into the cold streets.

“Fero?” Prompto shook his head, “Not since this morning. He said he was going to the club. Wanted to check out the damage. He… did say not to leave the apartment, though” Prompto glanced over skeptically.

Sacchi shrugged, lips curled into a smirk. “He’s such a goodie goodie. We’re fine. And you’re rockin’ the sunglasses baseball cap combo, by the way.”

Prompto rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help his smile.

“Ookay, right. Well, anyway, what next?”

“You’re the mastermind.”

“Phone, then. If I can get a hold of Iggy he’ll know what to do.”

“You Lucians and your weirdo nicknames.”

Prompto looked at him, brow raised. “ _Our_ weird nicknames?”

Sacchi shot him a grin, punched his shoulder lightly, and took off at a jog. “C’mon, I’m freezin’ my balls off out here.”

As soon as they got home, Sacchi pulled out the tablet and got to work.

“How do you even know how to do this?”

Sacchi’s fingers played across tablet screen. He pulled up the site he’d been looking for.

“Been livin’ in Gralea way too long, man. You pick this stuff up.”

“We have stuff like this in Lucis, but… you don’t really need it.”

“Depends on what you’re lookin’ for,” Sacchi said, “Ah- here we go. One black market cellular device coming right up. Any preferences?”

“One that’ll make calls to Lucis?” Prompto said, brow raised, “What else would I need?”

“I dunno, color or something? Pink one?” Sacchi looked him over, “Yellow maybe.”

“It can be rainbow sparkles as long as it works.”

“My kinda man,” Sacchi hummed. He clicked across the page and leaned back, “And ooookay, we’re done. One illegal phone on the way. Should be here in a few days.”

“Woah, really? That soon?”

“What can I say? Us lowlifes work fast.”

Prompto stared at the screen, giddy. A few days from now he could call home. He could explain everything to Noct and clear the air.

Man. How long was it now since they talked? A few weeks? More? So much happened. He had so much to say.

Mostly, he missed Noct. A lot.

Hopefully he was doing okay.

“Thanks,” he turned to Sacchi, “Seriously, dude. Thanks a lot.”

Sacchi looked over, a little pink in the ears. He huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes. “No thanks needed, my man.”

Prompto smiled and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He paused when his fingers brushed over something.

“Oh, right. Man,” he pulled out the business cards, “Can’t believe I almost forgot about these.”

“What’s that?”

Prompto passed them over.

“I, uh… I kinda mugged Claud after I beat him up.”

Sacchi looked up from the cards, brows shooting up. He busted out laughing, smiling wide.

“Damn, you little daemon, you! Whatever, the guy deserves it.” He trailed off, amusement fading a little. “So you… we didn’t really talk about it, but you okay? Ya know, after that whole… I mean the guy tried to... “

“Yeah, I know. I’m good.” Prompto shifted under Sacchi’s pointed stare.

“I’m good,” Prompto repeated, “Yeah, the dude's a  creep, but it’s no biggie. I stopped it before… I stopped it. It’s all good.”

“M’kay.” Sacchi didn’t look totally convinced, but he let it go. He looked down at the business cards, first at Minatio’s, then the other. He turned it over, “Hey, you see this on the back?”

Prompto glanced over and leaned in.

“ _‘Midnight Special’_ \- what’s that mean?” Sacchi asked.

Prompto shook his head and took the card back, eyes on the handwritten scribble. “Dunno.”

“Huh. Cool. Well, I gotta start getting ready.” He stood and paused, glancing down, “You, uh… you up for coming with or…?”

Prompto looked up, guarded. “Should probably stay here. But- I’ve got a favor, Sacchi,” he leaned forward and pursed his lips, pouting just a little, “You’re my only hope, so...!”

Sacchi snorted, “Anything for you, dearest.”

Prompto grinned and leaned back, gaze falling to the card again, “Can you ask around? I mean… be subtle, and you don’t hafta if you don’t want to, but about this whole… getting out of the city thing?”

“Please. Subtle’s my middle name.”

Prompto looked over dubiously. Sacchi waved him off.

“Leave it to me, Tiny. What about you?”

Prompto looked back at the mover’s card and scanned _‘midnight special’_ again.

“Research.”

 

* * *

 

“Show me the tapes. I want that little shit found.”

_“Yes, sir. It’ll… it’ll be just a moment, I have to pull them up-”_

“Get on it, then, got it?”

Pravus ended the call and slammed his phone down on the table. He raked a hand down his face red with anger.

“Claud, you stupid son of a bitch.”

The fool. Pravus was gonna get answers all right, or that idiot Lucian would never get another bounty gig if he could help it.

He looked at the current footage, green and grainy and showing a very, _very_ unsavory-looking and bloodied Claud staggering through last Friday’s crowd of horrified club-goers.

_The Reactor_ had a reputation to uphold. _Mako_ even more so. Sure, they might be under the table, but this was a high end establishment not some dive-bar for brawlers.

A gentle knock sounded at the door and Pravus looked over.

“Satia said you wanted to see me?”

“Fairy,” Pravus hummed in approval, but it was a little darker than normal. A little heavier, “Glad you made it in today. Care to explain why you’n Sacchi disappeared on me the other night?”

Pravus watched him, watched his face stay stoic and flat. Kid had a killer poker face, that was for sure.

“I wasn’t feeling well. Sacchi agreed to take me home.”

Hell of a poker face- Pravus almost believed him.

“And neither of ya thought to ask your boss?”

“You were with the Chancellor and the VIPs. We weren’t sure it was appropriate to interrupt, sir. I’ll have to apologize for that.”

Pravus stared up at him, dark eyes sharp and looking for any kind of tell. No luck.

“Yeah, alright,” He sighed and fell back into his chair. He drummed his meaty fingers on the armrest, gaze drifting to the security footage on replay.

“That regular of yours raised some real hell that night. You see him again I want you to give security the heads up, doll. Understand?”

He looked over, surprised to see Fairy looking hard at the footage. Pravus saw his lip twitch when Claud’s bloody face appeared on screen, just a touch.

A smile, maybe, hidden underneath that stone-like mask.

Well, well. Mighty interesting.

“That’s all from me, sweetheart. Just keep an eye out for him, would ya?”

“Will do, sir,” Fairy answered.

Pravus waved him off and watched him go, gears turning. He picked up his phone again and dialed.

_“Sir?”_

“Yeah. Get me the tapes from the green room that night, too, would ya?”

 

* * *

 

Prompto spent a day and a half with his eyes on the screen. They hurt by now, a sting every time he blinked. With Sacchi and Fero working, he’d had time to focus, but he’d come up with zilch.

No new miraculous plans to get out of the city, let alone across the ocean.

“You sure you’ll be okay here? Sorry I gotta check out so early. I help open up on Wednesdays.”

Prompto glanced up from the tablet to Sacchi who finished fastening the last button on his jacket.

“Yeah. I should figure out some of the details. Can’t rely on mama Ignis for everything,” Prompto answered, gaze falling to the tablet. He had a map pulled up of Niflheim. He knew the country was big, he just never realized exactly _how_ big. Every bit as big as Lucis and then some.

“Man, what’s a guy gotta do to get called daddy-”

“Aren’t you late?”

Sacchi smirked at Prompto’s red face. “Yeah, yeah.”

He waved and grabbed his keys then disappeared through the door and locked it behind him.

Prompto listened to him go. He heard the heavy front door to the apartment building slam shut stupidly loud like it always did.

He looked out the window, the grey clouds tinted pink as the sun sank behind the skyline.

Yeah. He was far from home, brought against his will to some foreign enemy city and on the run for his life, but…

But this was kinda nice. Having people around. People who expected him to be there when they got back. People who’d worry if he wasn’t. People he’d worry about if they didn’t come home.

Home.

People like… Noct. He…

He knew, or maybe, he hoped Noct…

Man, this was- Prompto felt bad even thinking it, but he hoped… Noct was worried about him. He wondered. Noct was that kind of guy. The kind to worry.

Even with… with the articles and the pictures, Prompto wondered if Noct…

Well. If he was worried or if he wasn’t, Prompto was worried about him.

Man, he really wanted that phone. It’d already been a few days and Sacchi said delivery was fast, but… but maybe it’d get here sooner? He hoped. He did.

Okay, well. No use freaking out about something outta his control, right?

Prompto turned his attention back to the tablet. He punched in the URL for _Eos Oceanic Movers_ yet again. The homepage looked normal enough. _About Us, Contact,_ blah blah blah.

Nothing about _‘midnight special’_ though. Not a trace.

Prompto frowned at the screen, his suspicions somewhat confirmed. Maybe he was going about it the wrong way. They were traffickers - smugglers, so they had to know how to cover their online tracks.

Maybe this was an ‘in person’ kind of deal. He scribbled down the address and Moogled directions. Not too far. 30 minute walk maybe?

And it was still light-ish out. He’d be back way before Sacchi or Fero got home.

Prompto jumped up and tugged a coat from one of the hooks. He snatched up the spare key they’d left for him, stuffed it in his pocket, and locked the door on his way out.

He had a date with some smugglers.

The sun was down by the time he found the right street and it’d started snowing. Again _._

Not that Insomnia was some tropical paradise, but the snow in Gralea was just excessive. If he lived here he’d have to do half the year’s runs on a treadmill.

Prompto shivered at the thought.

The street was mostly quiet. One older man was stood outside a bodega and closing up shop. A couple passed by, fingers intertwined and tired smiles pulling at their faces.

Totally, utterly normal.

And then there, halfway down the street, sat the shop. Unassuming, a worn old sign hung over a red awning.

_Eos Oceanic Movers_

An OPEN sign flickered in the window.

Prompto took a breath and pushed the door open. A bell chimed overhead. Well that was… quaint. Didn’t really fit the technological, industrial vibe Gralea gave off.

A guy about Prompto’s age looked up from behind the counter. Long, scraggly blond hair settled past his shoulders and his dark eyes studied Prompto boredly before he straightened out and tucked his phone away.

He didn’t say anything, though, so Prompto took the initiative and strolled toward the counter.

“Uh, hey. I’m… interested in the, uh, midnight special.”

It came out more like a question. He was such a crap liar. At least when it came to this kind of stuff.

The guy didn’t seem to notice though. Instead, his eyes grew marginally wider before narrowing. He stood a lot more rigid than he’d been a second ago.

“Let me grab my manager.”

Oookay. Okay. This was fine. Good. This was… what he wanted, so this was good. Okay.

Please, Six, please let this not be a shanking in the making.

Prompto looked around the store. It was basic enough. A wall with flyers promoting different moving rates. Another wall with shelves full of boxes, different shapes and sizes. Some wrapping paper, plastic bags, tarps. Door to a back room. Totally innocent.

“Can I help you?”

Definitely not the same guy.

Prompto looked over. The new arrival matched his gruff voice, broad-shouldered and thick in build, he watched Prompto like a hawk.

The first guy was nowhere to be seen.

Prompto nodded, the motion jerky, but squared up.

“Yeah,” he started, pleased by the strength in his tone, “I’m interested in hearing a little more about the midnight special.”

The guy stared him down and broke into the tiniest hint of a smile.

“Is that right?” He tilted his head, “Now where’d a kid like you hear about something like that?”

“You gonna tell me or not?” Damn, he was _crushing_ it.

The guy watched him a second longer before he shook his head. “Get lost, kid.”

Okay. There was definitely something fishy here, definitely something that he was looking for. Prompto couldn’t just let it go.

“Wait,” he took a step forward, “ _Eos Oceanic Movers_ , right? So you move… _stuff_ across the ocean?”

The guy frowned, arms falling across his chest.

“I might be… I’m interested in the options you got available. Maybe. That’s all.”

“Look,” the guy cut in, “I don’t know you. I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, got it?” He pulled a phone out of his pant pocket and held it up, “If you ain’t outta here by the count of three, I’m callin’ the MPs.”

Prompto held his breath, eyes flicking from the phone to the guy’s face. It was a bluff. It had to be, right? There was something to all this, something behind the proverbial curtain- it’d be suicide for the dude to call the military police, wouldn’t it?

“Human smuggler’s gonna call the cops on himself?”

The guy narrowed his eyes and lowered the phone.

“Nah. Nah, You got me,” he bit, “but I’ll call in my boys if you don’t bust ass, kid. I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but take my advice. Don’t go sniffin’ around unless you wanna end up six feet under.”

He gestured aside, the motion subtle and just the wave of a few fingers, but the door to the back cracked open. Prompto saw the first guy, saw him holding something small and silver, the barrel aimed right between Prompto’s eyes.

Prompto backed off, slow, and glared at them.

So, silver lining- he’d found his guy. THe’d found a way out of Gralea.

And they had him at gunpoint. Super.

When his back hit the door, he reached around and pulled it open. The next second, Prompto darted into the cold, fresh air. And he didn’t stop running.

Okay, it was a setback, yes, but he had a point of contact now. A  definite place to start. Maybe Sacchi or Fero knew someone who could get in good smugglers, they should be able to, right?

He slowed to a jog and finally all the way to a walk, eyes downcast at his sneakers crunching in the fresh snow.

Seriously. It was always one step forward, two steps back.

Prompto came to a corner. A few of the shops were closed, but he glanced to the newsstand a little ways off.

His gut clenched at the sight of his own face staring back at him.

Mesmerized, Prompto walked over to the newsstand and grabbed the nearest magazine. He held it tight and scowled at his own face underneath the glossy sheen like he was some movie star trying to sell makeup.

Except all the articles, all that flashy text, was all about ‘ _The ins and outs of Niflheim’s heartthrob hero!’_

He opened it and thumbed through the pages while ignoring the way his heart picked up or his skin felt too tight.

There was an article on him attending some party he’d never been to. There were columns about dinners and events and there was an interview _._ A full interview he’d _never even given_. One-on-one with the stupid idiot hero they were broadcasting all across Eos.

He read through the questions and answers and felt sick. It didn’t sound like him at, but there were maybe like, what- three people on the planet who’d be able to tell?

Prompto hit one question and his body stalled out like a car about to backfire.

 

> _Q. Undercover at high school- that sounds exciting! Tell us, Prompto- how did you make such fast friends with the Prince? You two looked very close!_  
>    
> _A. Great question, really! Royalty isn’t usually an easy target, but when you get someone young and gullible like the Prince of Lucis things unfold naturally, you know? Butter up the person, not the role, and bam! They’ll open up like a book. Honestly, it was too easy, the prince is a-_

 

Prompto squished the magazine into a wrinkled mess between his shaking hands.

It didn’t sound like him. It sounded _nothing_ like him and Noct would know that, but…

It didn’t sound like _Prompto Argentum, Noct’s bff_ but it didn’t have to. What if it sounded like _Prompto of House Besithia, Niflheim Agent_?

What if Noct believed that?

What if…

If Noct thought Prompto betrayed him, Prompto couldn’t blame him. He really couldn’t.

He barely grasped why Noct kept him around at all. This kind of dick move- this betrayal or mission or whatever… Noct’d be…

He’d be better off without Prompto in his life. He knew that.

Just look at all the trouble he caused _without even meaning to._

And even so. Even so.

Prompto’d warn him.

He’d get the phone. He’d call Noct or whoever he could get a hold of. He’d make his peace with things and if they wanted to throw him to the daemons afterword, fine. He deserved it anyway.

But he’d warn them. That was it. And then whatever happened happened.

He shoved the crumpled magazine back on the newsstand and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Prompto’s fingertips tingled and he couldn’t feel his toes by the time he got home. He climbed the stairs to the apartment, sneakers leaving behind a sludge of snow and soot.

When he turned the corner, one flight left to go, he stopped dead.

Claud stared down at him from the top of the stairs, dark eyes wide and face gaunt.

“No.”

It was all Prompto said before he turned, sharp, and sprinted down the stairs, Claud’s thunderous steps right behind him.

“Wait! Fuck- kid, wait! _Wait!_ ”

He didn’t. Obviously.

Prompto turned the corner on the third floor and was tackled halfway down to the second. They crashed with a bang, Prompto going face-first onto the snow-slick tile floor, Claud atop him, heavy arms wrapped around his middle.

Prompto’s brain rattled around in his skull, teeth clacking together. They both groaned and Prompto resumed the struggle, wriggling wildly.

They were not doing this again.

“Broken nose not enough of a hint!” Prompto hissed.

“Six I know! I _know_.”

Claud leaned back and rolled off him. He held his hands up, the international pose of surrender, and watched Prompto scramble away.

Prompto stared at him, chest heaving and back pressed flush against the wall.

Claud sat stone-still, hands still raised and eyes a little downcast. Like he was ashamed or something.

Prompto’d snort if he could breathe right. As if.

Instead, he glared, every nerve firing and at the ready to pounce. He pulled himself up, arms braced against the wall behind him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he bit. Now that he could take a second, he gave Claud the once over. He really did a number on the guy- kinda got a little shock of pride at the sight. Swollen nose, black eye and a big lump on the side of his head.

Good. He deserved it. And more.

Claud looked like he sucked on a lemon, face puckered and eyes anywhere but Prompto’s, hands fidgeting at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he supplied.

Prompto scowled, “Ever hear ‘no means no?’”

“Look, I…” Claud looked at a loss. Prompto watched him, ever move, every twitch. “I’m… sorry.”

What.

“What?”

Claud shook his head, ran a hand down his face. “No, not that, it’s… you said somethin’ the other night. About the city. Stoppin’ the Niffs.”

He looked up, finally. Prompto couldn’t read his face.

“I don’t… fuck. Look, I got people back there. In Insomnia. If you know… if somethin’s about to go down… “

Prompto stared at him.

He barked out a cold laugh so harsh it ripped his throat on the way out.

“You want help. You want _my_ help.”

Claud pressed his lips in a thin line, said nothing, and nodded once.

Prompto grit his teeth.

“Un-fucking-believable.” He gnawed on his tongue, hands fisted at his side. “How’d you even find me?”

“..I was lookin’ for ya that night,” Claud supplied grimly, “Asked around in the back. One’a the girls said the two guys who live here chased after ya, so I figured… “

“Great. So what do you want from me, dude?”

Claud looked around, head on a slow, slow swivel. “Maybe… not here.”

Prompto glanced over, spied one apartment door cracked open just barely.

Bad idea. Bad, _bad_ idea, but-

“Fine. But you try _anything-_ ”

“I won’t. Just wanna talk.”

“Right.”

Prompto pointed him up the stairs and followed from behind, not eager to turn his back to the guy. He opened the door, followed Claud in, and stayed parked right beside the entryway.

“Talk.”

“You said you needed to get word to the Lucians, right?”

Prompto snorted. His body felt like static, like it was in the sleep mode like his camera went into sometimes.

“Surprised you heard that. You were pretty _distracted_.”

Claud scowled, but quickly struggled back to a neutral expression. Prompto sniffed- it looked like it hurt the guy.

“And you robbed me-”

“Least I could do,” Prompto snapped.

“-yeah, well. You know what I do. For work. How you plannin’ on getting word to your boyfriend?”

“Carrier pigeon,” Prompto bit.

But still, the question had the air going out of his lungs. Prompto’s fury waned, just a little, but enough for the obvious answer to come in and smack in square in the face after a second.

The smugglers didn’t trust Prompto.

But they did trust Claud if past experience taught him anything.

Claud’s hard expression faded, lip twitching while he watched realization dawn on Prompto’s face.

“Way I see it,” CLaud started, suddenly more bold, more like the guy he normally was as opposed to the weird passive way he’d been acting, “you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. I can get you to Lucis. I do that, you gotta do somethin’ for me. Two things, actually. Keep my buddies safe- give prince charming the heads up and stop these fuckin’ Niffs in their tracks.”

“The other thing?” Prompto muttered.

“Play delivery boy.”

Prompto flared his nostrils and stared Claud down, nails biting into the skin of his palms.

Claud smiled.

“So whaddya say, partner?”

 

* * *

 

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s not like I wanna work with the guy, but what other choice do we have?”

“You’re on the run from the government with a reward out for your head and you want to put your faith in a racist, would-be rapist bounty hunter?”

“I’m sittin’ right here, y’know.”

“Prompto,” Fero pleaded, ignoring Claud who loitered in the corner and instead bearing down on the smaller blond who was sat on the loveseat.

Prompto sighed. “I know, but-”

“Look-”

“ _You_ don’t talk,” Fero hissed pointing at Claud.

Claud looked briefly affronted then vaguely amused. “Never heard you talk to me like that before, Fairy.”

“You’ve barely heard me talk. Now shut the hell up before I make that black eye a match set.”

“I found smugglers. It’s a way out,” Prompto blurted out, “But… look, I know what he is- I get it, trust me, but… we might need him.”

Fero shook his head and looked over, his anger at Claud bleeding into something that made Prompto’s gut clench.

Pity.

“Prompto… ”

“Noct’s in trouble,” Prompto said as if it explained everything because to him it did. “I’d work with a daemon if it meant protecting him.”

Fero gave Claud the side eye, arms folding across his chest. “Close enough.”

“I’ve got people in Insomnia,” Claud said with a shrug, but his levity was forced and his features darkened. “If the Niffs’re tryin’ to pull some shit I want my people to know. I may’ve left, but it’s still my home. I’m still a Lucian-”

“One ready to betray the prince from what I heard.”

“Bein’ from there doesn’t mean I agree with everythin’ our leaders do. Doesn’t mean I want the place destroyed, either. It’s home.”

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Yeah, well if I could call a taxi to get home, I’d do that, but I think I’m kinda stuck here.”

Fero slumped onto the sofa and Prompto glanced over to Claud.

“Get back to us with a plan. Logistics, strategy. We’ll go from there, okay?” Prompto said.

Claud nodded and eased off the wall he leaned against.

“And _you_ stay inside. Rumor has it Niff’s’ve been sniffin’ around this neighborhood lookin’ for you ever since the other night.” Claud started for the door.

“You’re the one who caused a scene,” Prompto muttered.

Claud skulked out the front door and waved over his shoulder. “I’ll get back to ya real soon, superstar.”

“This is insane.”

Prompto looked over. Fero was hunched, his head in his hands and eyes trained hard on the floorboards.

“Yeah,” he hummed, “Tell me about it.”

They both jumped when the door whoosed open with a bang.

“Special delivery!” Sacchi cried while kicking the door shut behind him.

“Inside voice,” Fero pleaded, fingers rubbing at his temples.

“One brand spankin’ new super illegal phone courtesy of yours truly,” Sacchi announced, showing off a unassuming cardboard box, “And, um excuse me what the fuck, was that seriously Clauddy I ran into in our hallway or-”

“It’s here!?” Prompto vaulted off the sofa.

“If only he was always so eager,” Sacchi hummed and passed over the box.

Prompto took it like it was gold. He turned tail and darted to the tiny kitchen table, one hand tearing at the tape and prying the thing open.

“Like a kid on Shiva’s Eve.”

“It looks like we’ll be getting some help from our favorite customer,” Fero muttered, eyes drifting up to Sacchi.

“Wait, for real?” Sacchi frowned. “Is that… Is Tiny-”

“My idea,” Prompto said as he pulled the phone from the box.

“Yeah, but…”

“I told you I’m okay,” Prompto said with as much nonchalance as he could muster. And, to be fair, he was. He was. It was like… it happened, but his brain never processed it. It was stuck buffering or something and he wasn’t in any hurry to have another mental whatever-it-was like he had the night everything… went down.

There was too much other stuff going on. It was messed up and gross and wrong, but it wasn’t important.

Helping Noct- stopping the Empire… -that’s what mattered. Not Prompto’s stupid little ‘poor me’ affair.

“Charger, charger… is there- ah, outlet!” Prompto zipped around the room, ignoring Sacchi’s eyes on him. He was holding the phone too tight. He watched the screen like it’d give him the secret to immortality.

Come on. Come on. _Come on come on come on_

* _p i n g!*_

“It’s workin?”

The screen glowed white, logo flashing on screen and disappearing until the operating system just started up at Prompto as if it were totally innocuous. Just any other phone.

Not _the_ phone, not Prompto’s one and only chance to call home for the first time in weeks.

In a lifetime.

He swallowed, the lump in his throat a boulder, and stood while clutching the phone to his chest.

“I’m gonna… make a call.”

Sacchi and  Fero exchanged looks. Fero stood and started for his room.

“We’ll give you some privacy.”

“Aww, what? I wanna-”

Sacchi clammed up, sheepish at the absolute dagger’s Fero’s burning gaze shot at him.

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Shower time anyway.”

They disappeared and it was just Prompto and the phone.

And it was quiet. Real quiet, not even MP sirens in the distant parts of the city.

Prompto could hear his own heartbeat.

He was shaking so bad. Stupid. Just.. work, fingers. Just _work._

He dialed. He held the phone to his ear, held his breath, and listened to it ring.

One.

Two.

_“Hello?”_

“Noct,” Prompto whispered, “It’s me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sneakily writes at work*


	14. Mindfulness

“He always seemed so nice. I seriously can’t believe it.”

“Argentum? Dude was weird. And a Niff, too.”

“I bet Prince Noctis is heartbroken. I can’t even… I mean I just think about one of you doing that to me and…”

“Poor guy.”

Noct gripped his backpack straps tight, hundred-yard stare set dead ahead.

The gossip was getting worse. It was bad enough Prompto was missing, but now he had to hear about it constantly.

Not to mention all the condolences his classmates gave face-to-face.

_I’m so sorry, Highness!_

_He’s such an asshole!_

_If you ever need anything, Prince Noctis_ …

Yeah. He needed them to leave him alone.

Noct felt eyes on him, which wasn’t exactly unusual, but this was worse than ever. He felt like he was on display. Like a freak in a zoo.

He ignored the heads turning in his direction when he entered the classroom and slumped down in his desk, blank stare out the window. They all did that thing where they go all quiet, like there was some big secret he wasn’t supposed to know about.

If Prompto were here they’d probably laugh about it.

A girl came in followed close by her friend, their conversation painfully loud considering how quiet it’d gotten.

“I can’t _believe_ that guy! Saying that about Prince Noctis?! Typical Niff. Ugh, I always _knew_ that guy was a-”

Half the class hissed at her to hush and the pair of girls stopped short. Wide-eyed, she looked at Noct, face going beet red.

He looked from her to the phone in her hand. He couldn't read the words, but there was big, bold text that was clearly a headline.

So, new story outta Niflheim, huh?

He looked away again and pulled out his own phone, the embodiment of aloofness.

It didn’t take long to find the article. It was plastered over social media, trending on _Kweh!_ and _SaidIt_ and everywhere else.

An interview with Prompto.

He knew he shouldn’t bother. There was no point in reading it. Everything was fake. It was all lies.  
  
Noct scanned the Q & A section.

 

 

 

> _Q. Undercover at high school- that sounds exciting! Tell us, Prompto- how did you make such fast friends with the Prince? You two looked very close!_
> 
> __A. Great question, really! Royalty isn’t usually an easy target, but when you get someone young and gullible like the Prince of Lucis things unfold naturally, you know? Butter up the person, not the role, and bam! They’ll open up like a book. Honestly, it was too easy, the prince is a loner. He was pretty desperate for a friend. I even felt a little bad for the guy, but it made my job easier._ _

 

It was trash. Noct knew that. Everything else, every other story and article and everything else coming out of the Empire about Prompto had been 100% pure garbage.

But…

An interview. Yes, he knew that anyone could sit down and type the stuff up, but he couldn’t help the image that popped into his brain.

Prompto in those fancy, stuffy clothes. Prompto _smiling_ at that very first event. Prompto smiling the same way at an interviewer and laughing.

At Noct.

“Good morning class, hope you’ve all had a nice weekend. Phones down and books out!”

The class issued a soft groan at their teacher, but shuffled noisily to comply.

Noct stuffed his phone back in his pocket. He pulled out his textbook, and stared numbly out the window.

 

* * *

 

“Where’d ya learn that one, Noct?”

Noct scowled up at Gladio and rubbed the sweat from his brow as he pulled himself up off the ground.He straightened out and squared up, practice sword held at the ready.

Gladio frowned when he received no reply, face grim. He shook his head.

“I think you’ve had enough for one day.”

“I can keep going,” Noct protested.

“No. I’m not interested in indulging whatever this is you’ve got goin’ on.”

Noct glared at him. Finally, he skulked over to the bench and sat, practice sword left leaning against the wall.

Gladio followed close behind.

“How long you plan on sulking?”

Noct scowled at the floor.

“If you got a problem, then do something about it. Otherwise, get over it.”

Noct raised his head, eyes hard on Gladio. “I’ve been trying.”

“You’ve been moping.”

“Whatever.”

Noct pushed himself up, stuffed his hands in his pockets and started for the door. He stopped short and glared when Gladio stepped in front of him.

“Sit. We’re not letting this go.”

“What, you my shrink now?”

“Drop the attitude. I get you’re frustrated, but either do something about it or quit whining. Man up.”

“Great advice. You got any suggestions? ‘Cause I’d love to hear’em,” Noct bit back, brows scrunched.

“Yeah, I do. Quit tryin’ to do everything alone.”

Noct balled his hands at his sides. He was shaking - he’d only just noticed. He barked out a bitter laugh.

“Kinda hard to get people on board with helping your friend when they believe the lies.”

“Have a little more faith in us than that.”

Noct looked up.

“Iggy’s been looking into things,” Gladio continued, “Thinks maybe there’s more to all this than we’ve been led to believe.”

“Like I said in the first place?” Noct muttered.

“It’s my job to protect you. Iggy’s, too. That’ll always come first. But if you’re dead set on this- if you’ve still got faith in blondie then we’ll trust in that judgement. Both of us.”

Noct’s anger fizzled out to nothing. He looked up at Gladio and saw that he meant every word.

“But you gotta let us help you.”

Noct heaved a sigh and nodded, the motion jerky.  

“Yeah, I got it,” he muttered after a beat. So they were with him. Of course they were. Didn’t mean it would make things easy and he’d still have to convince them of Prompto’s innocence. Hell, he… he still had to convince himself.

Just that last little bit.

He hated himself for thinking that way, but the interview…

Noct raked a hand through his hair. “Okay, so… if you’re up for it, you and Specs, I’d kinda like to get your… opinion on stuff, I guess. About Prompto. And everything.”

Gladio slapped a hand on his shoulder, Noct sinking under the weight.

“Whatever you say, highness. How ‘bout we hit the showers first, though?” He steered them toward the locker rooms.

“Sounds good.”

 

* * *

 

“Wait, go back. Slow- Yeah, there.”

Pravus leaned in, dark eyes scanning the paused security footage of the green room.

The tapes’d been business as usual so far, showing his lovely employees disrobing and prepping for the night. He had to fast forward through a whole night of tantalizing, but otherwise mundane and uneventful occurrences.

At least not until now. This one, in particular, took place maybe five minutes after the other that showed a bloody Claud fumbling through the club.

On the screen and sometime in the early, early morning, a  boy burst into the green room. His skinny frame was draped in black, movements hectic and clumsy, and his face kept hidden underneath a baseball cap while a few flyaway tufts of blond hair peaked out from under.

That looked like- no, it was. That was Fairy’s cousin. Same outfit the kid’d been wearing before the club opened that night.

Pravus never forgot a pretty face - or, in this case, a pretty body.

The timing was too coincidental. He was gonna have to call Fairy in again. And he was gonna get a hold of Claud, find out what exactly happened.

Although he had a pretty good idea. And all things considered, Pravus couldn’t exactly blame Claud.

He just should’ve taken his ‘business’ elsewhere was all.

Tiny, was it?

Cute little thing was becoming a thorn in Pravus’ side.

It was a good thing Pravus found it more than a little exciting.

 

* * *

 

“Feet, Noct.”

Noct sighed, all theatrics, and dropped his boots from the coffee table.

“Thank you,” Ignis hummed as he set cups of tea before Noct and Gladio and finally settled in the chair across from them with his own. “So,” he started again, “You had some thoughts?”

“Some questions first,” Noct said, “Gladio says you got a theory?”

“I do,” Ignis nodded and blew on his tea over the rim of the delicate cup.

Noct and Gladio watched him, the latter raising a brow.

“Wanna indulge us?” Gladio chimed.

Ignis lowered his cup to his lap, hazel eyes drifting between them.

“Noct, I’m sure you’ll recall we were followed sometime in early November.”

The prince nodded so Ignis continued.

“The timing coincides with the date Prompto disappeared. I believe in the possibility that there may be some connection between those two events.”

“Yeah. Same.”

“I see.”

They each looked at their tea and watched the steam rising from it.

“I was thinking…”

Gladio and Ignis glanced at Noct.

“The phone… that girl said she found Prompto’s phone in the park. I keep thinking back to the phone call. I mean, I know it was short, but I thought… I think I heard a car. Or something. It was a weird call, I’ve never gotten a butt dial from him before then.”

“Yes, I remember,” Ignis mused with a slight frown, “I believe it was in the morning. We do know Prompto was relieved from his position at work sometime after his shift started.”

“He always started at like eight am on Saturdays I think.”

“And the call?”

Noct glanced down at his own phone and pulled it up. “A little after ten.”

“So we have roughly two hours to account for.”

“The kid got canned?” Gladio jumped in.

“He was late,” Noct muttered bitterly (since it was _his_ fault).

“Under two hours, then,” Ignis noted.

Noct frowned at his tea. He cupped his hands around it and felt the warmth bleed through the glass.

“I was thinking… maybe it’d be a good idea to go the park? Check out… or ask around? I don’t know. I just thought it might be a good idea.”

Perhaps we can retrace his steps,” Ignis offered..

“And maybe someone saw something. It was a Saturday morning, right?” Gladio looked to Noct for confirmation, the prince nodding, “So someone must’ve been around.”

“Well then,” Ignis set down his cup with a small smile, “Shall we?”

 

* * *

 

“There’s nothing here.”

“It’s been a few weeks, right? If there was any evidence it’s probably gone by now. You said that girl found Prompto’s phone here?”  Gladio asked.

Noct sighed and skulked around the edge of the fountain until finally plunking down on the ledge.

“That’s what she said,” he answered. He pulled Prompto’s phone out of his pocket, the glass shattered but the homescreen still vaguely visible. He thumbed through the contents til getting to the ‘recent calls’ page.

There it was- the last call Prompto made. The last time Noct’d heard from him.

Two months ago on a Saturday at 10:33 am. The call lasted one minute and twenty six seconds. Noct frowned at the phone and wished for the billionth time he hadn’t picked up. If he had the voicemail, if he could listen to it again… maybe have the intel people analyze it and break it down…

But nope. They were stuck with his stupid, crappy bad memory.

Ignis sat down beside him while Gladio paced and scanned the surrounding area as if looking for a missed trail of crumbs.

“We waited too long,” Noct muttered, gloomy, “Way too long. Trail’s cold by now.”

“Not necessarily.”

Noct glanced over. Ignis was looking up, hazel eyes locked on something in the distance.

Noct followed his gaze, brows knit. Gladio, too.

Nothing over there. The park was a little ways in from the street, a sort of gravel drive leading in from the main road nearby. Just beyond the park’s tall iron fence and a few yards of tall trees were streets and tall buildings, wintery brown and green bleeding into drab, urban grey.

“Think someone was watching?” Gladio tried much to Noct’s gratitude. Seemed they both missed whatever caught Spec’s attention.

“I know they were,” Ignis said. “There,” he gestured to one of the nearest street lamps which was still a ways off.

But there, up near the bulb, was a small, indiscriminate little box with a lens peeking out.

“Traffic cam,” Noct realized.

“Damn, Iggy. Good eye!” Gladio cheered, slapping a heavy hand on Ignis’ shoulder while the latter adjusted his glasses.

“These aren’t purely a fashion statement,” he hummed lightly, but he turned his attention to the others. “It’s standard policy that police retain traffic records for sixty days. I believe we are just within that window.” He looked at Noct who glanced at his phone.

Prompto called in early November. It was mid-January.

His heart sank.

“We might be-”

“Sixty days is standard policy, Noct,” Ignis cut him off as he stood, his voice light, “Speaking from experience, the police don’t always adhere to policy as religiously as some might prefer.”

“ _Some_ ,” Gladio sniffed with a smirk.

“Truancy may very well be a blessing in this case.”

“Video quality won’t be great,” Gladio offered, “That camera’s a little ways off. You think it’s gonna be enough?”

“Worth a shot, right?” Noct jumped up as well, shoving both phones in his pockets, “And I’m pretty sure I heard a car, anyway. No where else for one to go except back out to the street.”

“Then let us make haste.”

 

* * *

 

Claud nursed his whiskey, but the familiar burn was missing. It tasted too sweet. Too acrid.

First drink of the night. Usually he’d slam it and be on number two by now.

This was a little ridiculous. He’d been in this situation a million times. Hell. He’d been in worse situations. Way worse.

And yet, when Pravus slid onto the bar stool next to his, Claud couldn’t help but grip the glass that much tighter.

“Thanks for coming, Claud. Been a while since we had a proper chat, yeah?”

Claud shrugged and passed the glass between his hands, eyes on the amber liquid sloshing inside.

“Not much of a stretch gettin’ me to come here,” he muttered, “Sorry ‘bout the other night. Had a few too many, y’know.”

Pravus either called him in for a job or to talk about last Friday. Claud was a ‘rip the bandaid off’ kinda guy.

Not to mention, being upfront never hurt when you actually had something to hide. Make’em believe you’re honest.

“Nothin’ gets people talking like a little excitement, son,” Pravus hummed, “Glad to see you’re doing so good, though.  Always been one’ve my best.”

They sat and Pravus gestured to the bartender, a pretty young thing with big blue eyes and short blond hair.

Claud took a swig of his drink and lowered his gaze once again.

“You know,” Pravus stated. And paused.

Claud gnawed on his tongue,  but kept still.

“Couldn’t help but notice your, ah. Hm. How do I put it… your _conquest_ that evenin’ was right up your alley. Your type, yeah? I was curious, Claud. You’ve got your pick of Fairy or Sacchi - or the others with those looks. Somethin’ about that particular boy got ya going, huh?”

Claud leaned in against the bar, arms crossed and folded atop it.

“I was blackout drunk, Mr. Minatio. Not really sure what my train’a thought was that night.”

“Sure, sure. Got it,” Pravus mused, “Kid got a name?”

“Don’t remember.”

“Sure, I gotcha. We’re known for our strong drinks,” Pravus teased, a thin smile curling his lips as his own drink was set in front of him. He took a long, slow drag from the martini glass.

Claud watched him from the corner of his eye, unable to read the guy’s expression under those sunglasses.

“Ahh,” Pravus smacked his lips and set down the glass, “Top shelf. Good stuff.”

Claud frowned.

“I’d like a name, Claud.” Pravus turned, carefully slid off his glasses. His dark eyes were hard on Claud’s face, narrow and searching and somehow still glinting in some kind of vague amusement. “Y’know. If you happen to remember, a’course.”

“If it comes back to me, you’ll be the first to know, sir.”

Claud didn’t look at him but he felt the other’s stare. Piercing. Analyzing.

“I’d sincerely appreciate it.”

Pravus drained his drink and slid off the stool. He reached up, a hand settling on Claud's shoulder and giving a firm squeeze.

“Thanks for coming, son. It’s been a real treat.”

* * *

 

Noct rolled onto his side and kicked off the blankets.

He peeled open his eyes and stared at the wall through the darkness.

Some kind of cruel irony that, at any other time, he’d have no problem falling asleep and yet when he wanted to, no luck.

They’d have the tapes sometime tomorrow, afternoon at the earliest. Everything was coming together, painting the picture he’d considered but had hoped was just some kind of crazy conspiracy theory. Not reality.

He closed his eyes again. Maybe he could will himself asleep.

* _P I N G!*_

Noct scowled and looked over at his phone as it rang and vibrated on his end table, the blue glow bright in his dark room.

Seriously? It was like 2 AM.

That and who the hell had his personal number aside from dad and Specs, Gladio… and like a handful of other people?

He picked it up, squinted at the glow and frowned.

_UNKNOWN_

Yeah, not ominous at all.

Still. Can’t hurt and it’s not like he was sleeping anytime soon anyway.

He held it up and answered.

“Hello?”

A beat of silence and then came a whisper so quiet Noct was half sure he hallucinated it.

 _“Noct?”_ Noct felt his heart jump into his throat. _“It’s me.”_

He held the phone like a lifeline, like it would up and disappear if he loosened the death grip even a little. He swallowed, tongue cotton and throat blocked like his body forgot how to work.

_“Uh. It’s uh… Prompto.”_

Noct couldn’t help the strangled snort that escaped him, because _duh!_ He’d recognize that voice anyway. The way he said _‘Noct’_ with that little upward lilt and-

Yeah. Like he’d forget Prompto. Ever.

“Hey.”

Great job, idiot. Mark that one down for ‘best hello ever after a long awaited reunion.’

He tried again, brain running a hundred times faster than he could keep up with.

“Where- how’d you… are you okay? _Prompto_ …,” Noct sucked in a breath, “I can’t-”

_“I’m fine! I … things ... it’s good to hear your voice, man.”_

“Tell me about it,” Noct sighed, dreamy like all the tension in his body just seeped out of him, “Where are you?”

_“Niflheim… um. Gralea.”_

Some of that tension came bleeding back in.

_“I’m trying to get home. It’s… look, dude, I don’t… I don’t know if you’ve seen like… the news or whatever, but it’s not- I know this sounds probably… it’s not true.”_

Noct swallowed down his trepidation, everything just disappearing into nothing. This was _Prompto_. Who wanted to come home. Who never wanted to leave.

_“I’m not some spy or whatever. I’d… I mean, for real, I’d kinda suck at that.”_

Noct could hear his little grin.

_“I’m, uh… I miss you. Bro.”_

“I… ,“ Noct choked on his tongue and stuttered.

It was quiet. This miracle was still happening, they were still right smack in the middle of it, and neither could speak. And that was okay. That was perfect. Noct could just hear him, alive, an ocean apart, but _alive_ and _missing_ him and-

_“There’s … there’s more, Noct. The Empire-”_

Prompto sounded pained. Serious.

_“They’re trying to use this, um, this division. That- the whole Niff or refugee or immigrant thing. They’re trying to stir something up inside the city. Get people pissed at you and the government and whatever.”_

Noct shifted on his bed and sat up, the phone snug against his ear. “I knew it.”

 _“Yeah,”_ he heard Prompto murmur. _“But… I’m kinda trying to stay under the radar, you know? I uh… I got away. From- well. I’m… trying to get home, but I wanted you to know that first. So, like, you guys- I dunno, you gotta watch your backs. They’re definitely stirring things up.”_

Noct bowed his head. It made sense. Why bother with an external show of force when you could destroy an enemy from within? It was more efficient to destabilize the enemy from the inside. It made the enemy weaker.

It was smart. They just had to be smarter.

But that could wait. That would wait til tomorrow or whenever he could process it because-

“Did… how’d you get to Gralea?” Noct held his breath andwent stone still like a statue.

_“Some guys- these bounty hunter dudes… I guess, uh... kidnapped me.”_

Noct felt his stomach plummet.

_“Weird, right? I mean… anyway, they- yeah. I got away from’em, so… I’m trying to get home. Maybe soon, but…. I was thinking, do you think- would Iggy have some- we’ve got a plan to get out of the city kinda, but as for the ocean and… and Lucis, I wasn’t sure-”_

“Are you gonna have this phone on you?”

A beat, then:

_“Yeah. Definitely.”_

“I’ll hit up Specs. We’ll work something out. We’re gonna get you home, Prompto, I swear. This should never-”

_“Yeah, but it’s fine. No biggie, right? I mean, now I’ve got a bunch of stuff to tell about the Empire. You know they’re really into those big fancy dinners? How do you put up with that stuff, man? I was ready to puke every five seconds.”_

Noct snorted, “You get used to it.”

_“Kinda don’t want to.”_

Noct grinned, the first genuine smile he’d had in, what, weeks? Months? It felt good.

They fell quiet, just the soft whir of a long-distance call between them.

“Seriously, man. It’s… things’ve been… “

Bad. Sucky. The worst since Prompto disappeared.

_“Yeah. Me too.”_

Noct exhaled, fingers still tight around the phone.

_“I should… I guess I should probably… “_

Prompto paused and Noct listened, practically heard him opening and closing his mouth over the phone like he didn’t know what to say.

_“Isn’t it late? At home, I mean?”_

Noct barked out a quiet laugh.

“I’m not really gonna be able to sleep after this.” He heard the smile in Prompto’s tone.

_“Me neither. But… I gotta plan. So… so I’ll hit you up again. Soon, okay? Like… I’m getting out of here as soon as possible. There’s a few guys coming with me- they’re good guys, good dudes, y’know? I just- I’ll keep you updated, Noct. Just… be careful. I mostly- I wanted to tell you about the whole … just be careful, okay?”_

“Wait.”

It was quiet. Noct heard him shuffling, just a tiny bit, and then it stopped.

He… he didn’t want to… what should he say? It’d been- and they… there wasn’t-

_“I’ll be home soon.”_

Noct parted his lips, the crease between his brows deep and his fingers trembling where he held the phone.

_“I promise.”_

Noct blinked, hard. He slammed his eyes shut to ward off the sting. Okay. Okay- it was fine.

“You better.”

Prompto laughed on the other line, soft and quiet, then:

_“Catch ya later, Noct.”_

And it was over. The _beep beep beep_ signaled the end of the call and Noct stared down at his phone. He let it sit in his lap even as the screen went black and all the while their conversation rang in his ears.

_He’ll be home soon._

_He promised._

 

* * *

 

Prompto stared for a long time at the phone after the call ended. By the time he finally looked up it was past midnight.

He couldn’t believe it. He expected to wake up any minute, any second now and be back in that room with Ardyn and Terreo at the door, with MTs and their glowing eyes watching him. He expected to wake up chained to rafters, head aching and blood dripping through his fingers.

It was dumb. It was cliche and lame, but Prompto pinched himself.

Yeah. Real. This was real.

He exhaled- hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath.

Prompto fell asleep with the phone tugged in close and resting just next to his heart.

 

* * *

 

“We might have a problem.”

“Uh, yeah dude. Entire Empire’s after me, I kinda got that.”

Fero shot Prompto a look. Prompto’s grin faded a little, instead looked pained.

“Sorry... seriously though? Something new? Now what?’

Fero sat down across from him at the small table. “I don’t think it’s anything to really freak out about. I just think... as much as I hate to say it, Claud has a point. It might be better for you to hide out in here ‘til we get everything squared away.”

Prompto frowned. “I can’t just let you guys handle everything. This is my mess in the first place. I-”

“I know” Fero said, “And you can plan from here, I get that. I don’t even know the half of what you’ve going on up there,” he gestured to Prompto’s head, “but Claud was right. On my way home from work there were patrols. Police out with a MTs every couple of blocks. And judging from what I’ve seen online I don’t think it’s just our neighborhood.”

Prompto parted his lips but he didn’t have anything to say.

“And that’s not all.”

Prompto snapped his mouth shut, lips pressed in a thin line.

“Minatio is trying to figure out what happened,” Fero explained, “Going through the security cameras. That kind of thing. Luckily the footage isn’t exactly high quality. And you kept yourself pretty covered up, so hopefully… you know.”

“Guess I’m glad I kept that hat.”

They both looked down. This was no game. One slip up and it was over. And neither of them knew what that really meant.

Prompto needed to do something with his hands, restlessness creeping through him in a wave. He poked at the tablet he’d been using and turned it around showing a map to Fero.

“I think… so Claud mentioned he’d be able to get us out of the city. That’s great. I’m just kinda at a loss about the whole ocean thing. I’m not sure how they got me over here in the first place. I mean, a boat obviously, but…” He trailed off, a queasy feeling settling in his belly, “I wasn’t exactly awake for most of it.”

Fero nodded, eyes on the map of the world.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that.”

Prompto looked up. “Got something in mind?”

“I do, but… it’s risky.”

“This whole thing is risky,” Prompto laughed.

Fero looked at him before looking back down to the map.

“I was thinking... maybe we could go by dropship.”

“By what?”

‘They’re” -Fero gestured vaguely skyward-  “airborne vehicles. The Empire uses them for troop movement and equipment transport. Among other things.”

“So, like- what? You’ve got a private one or something?”

“No. But I know someone who does. She was there the other night, actually. One of the VIPs at the club . You might’ve seen her.”

Prompto thought back to last Friday before everything went to hell. The brief parade of VIPs came to mind, the Chancellor leading the way followed by others in fancy suits and then that one woman, the one he’d met in the hallway.

The one with silver hair and the bored  face.

“I crossed paths with her when I was in the service,” Fero continued, “She recently got promoted. Got herself a dropship, but I know… we’ve talked before about things. She’s not… one-hundred percent on board with the Empire.”

“So you’re saying we might have an in,” Prompto said.

“We might. But if I can- if we can get Aranea involved it’d be a guaranteed ticket to Lucis.”

“And then we’re free men,” Prompto said with a grin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. So. I'm like... I didn't think this was ready to post, but meh
> 
> Um. This one was tough 'cause there's a LOT going on. But hey. Here we are, so. Y'know.
> 
> Anyway! I'm StuPID busy atm but hopefully things can kinda chill out or hopefully I can at least get the weekends to write! I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> I also know it's a little short, definitely shorter than I'd prefer, but it just- anything else that I thought to add woulda just been redundant, ya know? Anyway, as always, your guys comments... seriously, they give me life. I just grin like a dumb idiot anytime I see one in my email and it's just... yeah. So thanks for those.
> 
> Anyway, for anyone in the winter wonderland like I am, please stay warm and have lots and lots of hot drinks and blankets and all that good stuff! You guys are the best and... well, yeah. That's it!


	15. Last Call

**_Time Remaining: 44 hours (Thursday, 0930)_ **

“Where’s Fairy?”

Prompto glanced up from the tablet to Sacchi who’d finally appeared from his room with bed-head and groggy-eyes.

“Trying to get a hold of someone. Might be our way across the ocean.”

“Yeah?” Sacchi grabbed the free chair at the table, spun it backwards and sat, arms folded atop the chairback. “Sounds good to me. Guess I should start packing.”

Prompto nodded and exchanged the tablet for his cup of ebony (an acquired taste what with burning the midnight oil lately).

“Want some ebony with that sugar?” Sacchi waggled his eyebrows with a crooked smile.

“Wanna wake up a little more before hitting on me?”

Sacchi puckered his lips in a kissy face. He laughed but gratefully took the mug when Prompto shared his coffee. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Fero’s working things on his end. Claud said he was swinging by the movers today. Hopefully he’ll have better luck than I did.”

“Not gonna lie, you and intimidating are like antonyms in the dictionary, Tiny.”

“Thanks.”

Sacchi smiled over the rim of the coffee cup and took another sip before passing it back. “So not quite a road trip. Bummer. I’ve got a killer mixtape.”

Prompto accepted the mug, brows knit. “Mixtape?”

“Name of my playlist. But yeah. Not to brag, but I’ve got impeccable taste in music.You on AstralBlast? I can send you the link,” Sacchi grinned at Prompto’s deadpan expression. “Takin’ that as a ‘no.’”

“AstralBlast?”

“Music app. Guessing you guys don’t have it across the pond.”

“AstralBlast…” Prompto echoed again, “Weird name.”

“AssBlast for short.”

Prompto morphed from horror to disdain in the blink of an eye.

“ _Anyway-_ ” Prompto pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to hide his smile, “Everything’s working out. Still, uh… y’know, logistics and stuff and I’ve gotta make a call.” He reached down and retrieved his phone, the screen lighting up as he thumbed through it.

“Your boyfriend?”

Prompto shook his head fast enough for whiplash, cheeks pink, “No! Noc- Prince Noctis!”

“Uh huh, yeah,” Sacchi nodded as if the two were one in the same.

Prompto heaved a sigh and combed a hand through his hair, flustered. “I don’t think we’ll really be able to roll into Insomnia without trouble, y’know? I just… I’m not sure- I’m just kinda working on what to say.”

“Oh, I’m sure your eloquent speech skills will get the point across without no problem.”

Prompto rolled his eyes and looked over, scowling but without any bite. “Don’t you have work or something?”

“Tryin to get rid of me?”

“Maybe!”

Sacchi looked affronted, fingers sprawled against his chest and mouth agape. At least before smirking and pushing away from the table. “Yeah, I get it, I get it, ya know. As a matter of fact, I _do_ have some business to attend to.” He paused, arms thrown overhead in a stretch, “You cool to chill here?”

“Yeah, dude. I got a speech to work on.” Prompto grinned at Sacchi and waved as he left.

 

* * *

 

**_Time Remaining: 40 hours (Thursday, 1330)_ **

“We have received an alert, sir. There was a hit in Lystheim.”

“Oh?”

“Yes sir. Another illegal order, sir.”

Terreo looked up from the computer he’d been working on, green eyes falling to the row of Imperial soldiers in front of him. Two in particular stood beside each other with their eyes on a computer, one a grunt and the other clearly his superior officer.

“Is that so?” The officer hummed as he leaned in, “Those are rare nowadays, aren’t they? Haven’t seen one in at least several months.”

“The last order from this website was eighteen months ago, sir. That was when the intelligence committee initiated our tracking effort.”

“So the address-?”

“Everything is available, sir. Usually bad actors like this try obfuscate their true personas, but it is usually easy enough to uncover. It took only days last time.”

“I want them found. Today.”

“Yes sir.”

Terreo looked back at his screen.

No illegal orders in over a year until now, barely a week after his sneaky little charge escaped.

Terreo wasn’t one for coincidences.

“What was the order?” he asked as he looked up. The soldier frowned at him but the officer stood straight.

“A mobile phone, Mr. Amentia.”

He knit his brows. “A phone?”

The soldier glanced from his officer to Terreo, apparently getting the hint.

“One that can make calls outside of Niflheim territory, sir,” supplied the soldier, “They’re illegal inside the Empire. Usually they’re used by sleeper cells or infiltrators.”

Coincidence his ass.

Terreo stood and leaned forward, imposing even in front of the two military men.

“You mentioned this order came from that Lystheim neighborhood?”

The soldier swallowed, eyes flicking to his officer who nodded for him to explain.

“Yes. Yes, sir. It’s… the city’s red light district,” the soldier looked back at the computer, “The address was linked to a club called _The Reactor._ ”

Hah. Minatio.

Figures he’d be involved.

“I’ll look into this, Lieutenant,” Terreo said to the officer, “I’ve got a hunch this may be the lead I’ve been looking for.”

The soldier winced. “Sir-”

The lieutenant held up his hand, silencing his subordinate. “Of course, Mr. Amentia. I have soldiers on standby if you should like escorts?”

“I think I’ll manage but thanks.”

He gave them a grim smile and left.

 

* * *

 

**_Time Remaining: 33 hours (Thursday, 1930)_ **

“So what you’re saying is we’re gonna be in the cattle car?”

“Yeah. You should be used to it, right, blondie?”

Prompto glared at Claud, face heating. “Yeah, thanks to you.”

“I’m not following.”

They both looked to Sacchi who glanced between them with a raised brow.

Prompto sighed. “It’s… look, nevermind. Anyway, dude,” he looked at Claud, “your guys are good to go on this?”

“All squared up like I said. We get to the station before sun up, they get a little bribe in with one of the train yard workers and bam. Good to go.”

“In the cattle car.”

“In the cattle car,” Claud confirmed.

Prompto glanced to Sacchi who shrugged. “Hey, if it works, it works, right?”

“Yeah.” Prompto shifted in his chair, brows knit. Yeah, this would work. It did before, just like Sacchi said. Now they just had to wait for Fero and his contact.

“Hey. That reminds me,” Prompto frowned at Claud, “You asked for something else. A delivery or something, right?”

Claud abandoned shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah. Me.”

“What?”

“I want in.”

“You mean you wanna go to Lucis?” Sacchi chimed.

“Why?” Prompto bit, eyes hard.

Claud caught his heated gaze, his dark eyes lingering too long, dipping too low. Prompto glared harder. He skin crawled.  

“Like I said. If the Niffs-” Claud paused, eyes flicking between the blonds, “..if the _Empire_ ’s planning some shit I doubt this’s gonna be their only attempt. Things’ve been quiet kinda. Lately, right? No big battles, nothin.’ But if they’re goin’ for an all out war I’m gonna be home for it. I might work for’em, but I ain’t no Niff.”

Prompto frowned and finally let his gaze fall.

“So that makes Clauddy the fourth in our band of merry men, huh,” Sacchi hummed, face grim as he glance to Prompto, “Tiny, you say the word and we can tell the guy to fuck right off. He did try to.. Y’know-”

“Yeah, I know.” Prompto’s skin still went clammy when he looked at the guy. The thought of bringing him along for the ride, across the ocean, _home to Lucis and living in the same city-_ It all made his gut threaten to upchuck breakfast.

“Great. So we’re only gonna get as far as Tenebrae. Fairy come up with anything on his end yet?” Claud asked without missing a beat.

“Impeccable timing,” Fero appeared from his room, phone in hand, “I just finished speaking with the Commodore. I spared her some of the finer details,” he glanced at Prompto, “but she was otherwise on board.

“So airship?” Prompto asked.

“Hell yeah! I’ve been _dyin’_ to try one of those things out,” Sacchi cheered.

“Can you try to be serious? This isn’t a vacation.”

“Not a death sentence either, Fairy, pull the stick outta your-”

“So we got our way outta Niflheim,” Prompto cut in. He pulled his new phone from his pocket. The blank screen stared up innocently and lit up as he thumbed over to contacts, “Which leaves the trip back into Insomnia.”

“You’re besties with the Prince, right?” Sacchi hummed.

“Yeah. Ya’d think that’d come with some benefits,” Claud muttered.

“That’s not why we're friends. I never…” prompto shook his head and stood, “Anyway… in this case, just- I’ll make the call. Worst case scenario we’ll have to figure out a way back to Insomnia ourselves, but-”

“Make it work, blondie,” Claud bit earning glares from Fero and Sacchi.

“He’s about to try.”

“Yeah, get off his dick, man,” Sacchi growled.

Prompto went a little red and shook his head, “Just- wait here, okay? I’ll call now. If I can- we’ll see if I can get through.”

He stood and made for Sacchi’s room and closed the door behind him. Not like the walls were particularly thick, but their voices in the kitchen were muffled enough that it was about as much privacy as Prompto’d ask for.

He looked down at the phone again half expecting it magically disappear. When it didn’t he finally hit dial and listened to the rings.

Right after the first one came a frantic:

_“Prompto?”_

He couldn’t help it and smiled to himself. Prompto sniffed in a quiet laugh and sat on the foot of Sacchi’s messy but comfortable bed.

“Yeah- hey, dude.”

_“Hey… what’s going on?”_

“I hope I’m not interrupting any big fancy meetings or anything, but I was kinda wanting to see if, uh, if Ignis was around?”

_“Specs? Yeah, he’s here. He’s in the kitchen. But, uh… I haven’t told him yet, really, about the whole … call thing.”_

Prompto did the math and couldn’t help his grimace at the picture it all painted.

“Insomnia’s most wanted, huh?”

_“It’s not… well, Specs and Gladio are… they’re kinda on board with things, but this-”_

“I’m pretty ready for the firing squad, dude.”

He smiled at Noct’s indignant, horrified squawk.

“I know he’s probably gonna drill me with questions. We just - we’ve got our plan mostly worked out on this end- got a way outta Niflheim, finally, y’know?”

 _“That’s… awesome.”_ Noct sounded relieved.

“Tell me about it. But… we don’t really have a way back to Insomnia. I don’t even- I mean, I’m not even sure if I can get into the city. If it’s gonna be like some ‘shoot on sight’ thing-”

 _“Yeah, I got it,”_ Noct muttered sounding displeased with the mental image.

“So, uh, you think he’ll be up for it? He’s a diplomacy over violence kinda guy, right?”

_“You’d be surprised…”_

“Ah. Comforting.”

_“With- Look, let me grab him. I’ll explain- I just need to break the news before I shove a phone in his face. But we’re gonna make it work, Prompto, I swear. I’ll call you back in twenty, okay?”_

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Noct.”

 

* * *

 

 

**_Time Remaining: 31.5 hours (Thursday, 2100)_ **

“That you, Terri? To what do I owe the pleasure, son?” Pravus looked past Terreo, lips curled, “You bring your little celebrity with you?”

Terreo took the offered hand and gave a solid shake. “Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Minatio. I’m sure you’ve heard Niflheim’s hero has been missing for a few days now.”

Disappointed, Pravus shook his head, hands sliding back into his pockets. “I hadn’t heard. Not keepin’ up on my gossip lately.”

“Really?” Terreo sounded genuinely surprised.

Pravus sighed and stalked toward his office. He motioned for Terreo to follow.

“Breaks my heart, I’m tellin’ ya, Terri. Been distracted. Had a bit of a scene last weekend. Been trying to manage the situation since then, but you know how those things go.”

“I do,” Terreo mused and stepped into the office, Pravus closing the door behind them. “That’s actually why I’m here. Official Empire business.”

“Official,” Pravus hummed with a sneer and eased into his chair, girth spreading out over the deep crimson fabric.

“Seems someone on your payroll made an illegal purchase,” Terreo folded his arms cross his chest, “A phone. Dark web. Sound like anyone you know?”

Pravus sniffed, amused. “A phone? C’mon, Terri, those kids buy worse things. Hell, you’ve bought worse online while working for me!”

“A phone that can call Lucis.”

“Well, that’s mighty specific.” Pravus tilted his head, “I see why the Empire’d be interested, but you-” he paused, lips parting and a sparkle in his dark eyes. “Ah,” he hummed, “Your escaped little charge?”

Terreo bowed his head in confirmation.

“No other orders in over a year and few people outside our kind of work need to make calls overseas. Even less who don’t already have a way to get through.”

Pravus nodded, fingers folding together as he placed his chin atop them.

Well, wasn’t that curious. He had a little rat in his midst? Well, he had several. Pravus was nothing if not practical.

But a _traitor_ rat? Wasn’t that interesti-

He jerked up, dark eyes wide behind his sunglasses.

No. There was no way.

“Tiny,” Pravus muttered, soft, like a prayer.

Terreo raised a brow and watched the man unfold himself, the chair groaning under him and squealing as he rolled over toward some wildly outdated monitors. He pushed a few buttons, pudgy fingers poking around until an image came up.

Or a video, rather, grainy and green and showing a dressing room.

“Uh… “

Terreo knew Minatio had his… vices. Voyeurism wasn’t exactly shocking (and not the least bit surprising), but Terreo was standing _right_ behind the guy and-

“Watch!”

“Mr. Minatio, I don’t-”

“No- Look. Wait,” the older man huffed and fast forwarded, the screen wiggles and flurries of motion, “Here!” He paused and pressed play, things unfolding in real time. “This one, here- look! Look, Terri- close!”

At the tip of Pravus’ finger, green-hued and cloaked in black, blond hair peaking out under a baseball cap, was a boy.

One that looked suspiciously familiar when Terreo caught sight of his blurred face. Even more so when he watched him gesture, watched his gate, watched him dart out the room and through the hall like he was running for his life.

“Tiny! That’s- Fairy said it was his cousin, but I was thinkin’ I mean he’s a skinny little shit, looks kinda like-”

“Prompto,” Terreo muttered as he leaned in and rewound the tape, “It’s him.”

 

* * *

 

**_Time Remaining: 7 hours (Friday, 2230)_ **

The room was dark except for the yellow-white glow coming from the TV and one tired orange light bulb glimmering overhead. Sacchi, Fero, and Claud sat round the small table, a notepad in front of them open to a page marked with numbered scribbles.

Prompto sat down at the one free chair, three pairs of eyes turning to him.

“Okay,” Prompto said, “Here’s the plan.”

He grabbed the notepad and turned it toward them.

“First step - get out of the city. That’s Claud and his guys.” He glanced up and Claud gave an affirmative nod.

“We get to the station tomorrow morning before sun up. We’re looking at 5am-ish, a little after. One of Claud’s guys bribes the yard worker, the other gets us smuggled on the cattle car, and we ride it out til Tenebrae which should be sometime before noon. That’s where the commodore comes in.”

He glanced at Fero who nodded as well.

“Commodore Highwind sends one of her officers to raise some hell with the train conductors while we slip off the train. We meet up-”

“Rendezvous,” Fero supplied. Sacchi rolled his eyes.

“…we _rendezvous_ with the Commodore at the location she gave.” Prompto scribbled the geo-coordinates on the notepad, “And from there it’s a straight shot in her dropship to Cape Caem in Lucis.”  

Prompto laced his fingers together, brows pinched and blue eyes hard on the notepad as he struggled to keep the hope out of his voice. Not the time for pining- they needed to present a united front. He pressed on all matter-of-fact.

“At the cape we meet up with Iggy- uh, Ignis. Noct’s advisor. He’ll be waiting for us with escorts and a ride back into the city.”

“Escorts?” Claud looked dubious.

“Yeah,” Prompto frowned, “Doubt we’d be able to get in at all without him.”

“And that’s the best case, I’m guessing,” Fero said, “No doubt you’d be apprehended on the spot- actually, we all might be for playing accessory to your supposed crimes.”

“Which is why Iggy planned ahead.” Prompto looked up, “That’s everything. Once we get into Insomnia they’ll probably question you guys, but I explained everything I could to Iggy. They probably won’t hold you long.”

Sacchi leaned in, brows knit, “What about you?”

Prompto managed a hesitant smile. “Guess we’ll find out.”

“Tiny…” Sacchi trailed off.

“What about the prince?” Fero asked.

Prompto shrugged and avoided their eyes. Instead, he turned his gaze on the notepad. “Noct’s gonna put in a good word, y’know, but… even for him there’s only so much he can do. Iggy- Ignis is kinda like a lawyer. Said I should just play it straight. Insomnia doesn’t shoot first ask questions after like the Empire does- he said they’d get to the bottom of things, even if life has to kinda suck for a while in the meantime.”

_And nothing new there, so…_

“So… they’re not, like… gonna, uh…” Sacchi made a vague cut throat gesture and stuck out his tongue, playing dead.

“Nah, probably. I mean… maybe.”

“ _Prompto_ ,” Fero grunted and Prompto grinned.

“So, anyway… that’s everything. Everybody good? We all on board?”

The others nodded and Prompto spared Claud a hesitant glance. If there was any chink in their armor he was it.

“My boys suggested coverin’ up a bit,” Claud muttered, “You all blend in here in Gralea just fine, but once we get over to Lucis… three of ya side by side?”

“Like a wet dream come true, huh, Clauddy?” Sacchi shot him a look.

Claud shifted in his seat, eyes drifting to Prompto and lingering just that little bit too long.

Prompto stared pointedly at the notepad.

“Might wanna opt for some hats or somethin’ - that’s all I’m sayin’.”

“Noted,” Fero said. He stood and glanced toward the clock. “Since we have an early start, I’d suggest getting some sleep. Sacchi. Claud.”

The two in question looked over.

“I’m sure you’ve thought this through by now, but… we will not be coming back here. Likely ever.” Fero caught Sacchi’s eyes and softened his features. “I just suggest you pack your bags with that in mind.”

“Bag,” Claud muttered and stood, “We’re smugglin’ bodies and maybe a bag or two, not luggage and big ass suitcases, got it? This ain’t exactly a luxury cruise.” He skulked toward the door, grabbed his coat from the hook and tugged it on.

“Bag, then,” Fero said.

Sacchi bowed his head a little. “Yeah. Gotcha.”

Claud nodded at them as he finished fastening the last button on his coat. “Right. Tomorrow then, bright’n early.”

He disappeared through the door and closed it behind him.

And then it went quiet except for the soft murmur of television in the other room.

Prompto looked between them, fingers fidgeting at his shirtsleeves. For him, this was getting home. This was the end game. He could picture his cold, quiet little apartment, his camera on the desk and his unmade, but still neat bed. He could picture Noct, practically could feel the hug, see the arcade and taste Iggy’s food and-

But for Fero… and for Sacchi…  

For them it was leaving all that behind. Everything. Starting over brand new in a place where they’d stand out. Even if Gralea was depressing and authoritarian and gritty, it was still their home.

“Look, um.” What did he even say in a situation like this? Prompto looked up, two pairs of blue eyes meeting his own. “You guys… you’re really sticking your necks out for me. It’s… if you’re having second thoughts or- I mean, I’d… I’d get it, trust me.”

“No take backs,” Sacchi hummed. He leaned back and kicked up his feet, both on the table. “You made the offer, Tiny. Can’t take it back now, ya know?”

Prompto blinked at him. “I-Im not-”

“Sacchi’s right. What, you use our connections and then change your mind at T-minus?” Fero noted as he set PRompto with a look.

“He’s an attention ho, right? Wants the be the only cute Niff in Insomnia. ‘Fraid were gonna steal prince charming,” Sacchi opened his eyes and aimed a wolfish grin at Prompto. He pitched his voice high and pointed at Fero, “This town ain’t big a’nuff for the three of us!”

Fero’s lip twitched.

Prompto gaped, eyes darting between them, cheeks red. “I’m- that’s not… I didn’t-!”

Sacchi burst into laughter, Fero opting for more sensible chuckles.

“Tough luck, Tiny. You made Insomnia sound so good- you’re stuck with us.”

“At this point I think it’s fair to say you can consider us all in.”

Prompto stared, lips parting but nothing to say. They just smiled. And it was so… it was…

Maybe… if he ever had brothers or something it’d kinda be a little something like this.

“Anyway, what are Lucians wearing this time of year?” Sacchi changed subjects rapid-fire and jumped up to start toward his room. He hummed, thoughtful.

“Uh, I don’t know… black probably?”

“Rhetorical question, Tiny!” Sacchi waved and disappeared round the corner, murmuring a, “...black, huh.”

Fero stood as well and pushed in his chair, both hands resting atop its back for a moment.

Prompto’s sheepish smile faded, his attention drifting to Fero- to the hopeful, tiny little smile on the older blond’s face.

He didn’t say anything, instead just passed his phone between his hands for something to do.

“Prompto.”

Prompto stopped fidgeting.

“I… thank you for this. For letting us… “ Fero shook his head as if finding his thoughts- finding the words. “I’m… excited. I’m… I’m nervous- I mean I understand how delicately we have to tread. How we have to be aware and on alert, but… I haven’t felt this way in a long time.”

They caught eyes. Prompto pushed back from the table and rose.

“I wouldn’t be here without you guys,” he said, steadfast, “You’n Sacchi- I’d… I’d be back there, back in the Keep or wherever, so you don’t gotta thank me. We’re all going. We’ll get there together, dude, so… “

Fero’s tentative smile grew and he bowed his head, face shadowed by strands of blond hair. “Yeah.”

He reached across the table, grabbed Prompto’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

Then he left for his room to pack and sleep while Prompto sat alone at the table, eyes on the blue digital clock across the room.

Seven hours to go.

 

* * *

 

**_Time Remaining: 6 hours (Friday, 2330)_ **

Prompto stared up at the ceiling, knees scrunched up and the makeshift blanket/coat draped haphazard over them. It was cold, but then it was always cold in here. Even with Fero’s military-grade parka over Sacchi’s… uh, ‘fashionable’ outerwear, the cold still seeped through.

And yet he didn’t shiver. At least not from the cold.

Giddy. He was so stupid giddy because in just a few hours they would be on their way, they would be going home.

They’d be safe. They’d be _free._

And he’d be on his way to help Noct, to warn the King and the Glaives and whoever the hell else needed to know that they needed to prepare and to _not trust the Empire at all._

His phone sat on his chest, butt end resting on his chin and playing Sacchi’s surprisingly mellow playlist in the quiet living room at a considerate volume.

Not only… not only would he be home, but he’d have been able to help people. Two really, _really_ good people.

And yeah, one creepy old guy, but still, two really good nice people who deserved a chance. His friends.

Prompto wondered how Noct’d like them. He would, Prompto knew he would, but he grinned as the scene of their first meeting played out. Fero might get along with Ignis- maybe even the Shield.

Prompto could practically picture Noct’s blush when Sacchi was sure to hit on him.

The image made him smile. And then… wince a little. Sacchi was a flirt, and Noct wasn’t… into guys, Prompto didn’t think, but Sacchi wasn’t a bad-looking guy like… at all, so what if they really hit it off and liked eachother which, yeah, okay, Prompto was _hoping_ they’d like eachother, but if it was too much, then-

Prompto sat up and caught his phone as it fell into his lap. He pulled up Noct’s number and listened to the rings before even knowing what he was doing.

_“Prompto?”_

“Hello?”

_“...you called me?”_

Did he?

“Oh.” His face felt hot. Prompto blinked, like his brain had left the building.

_“So… hell of a day tomorrow, huh?”_

Noct, you beautiful, subject-changing amazing life-saver, you!

Prompto relaxed and nodded while easing back against the sofa.

“Yeah, no kidding, right? Like a real life video game. Heist, dude. Real life heist!”

Noct laughed softly on the other end. _“Okay, tough guy. Just keep on easy mode. And avoid the final boss.”_

“C’mon, Noct, where’s your faith?” Prompto said, voice still low, “I could take’m easy. I never miss.”

_“Not what your ReDead score says!”_

“Still higher than yours!”

Prompto grinned so hard it hurt. He felt like a light was in his chest, like it’d come bursting out. Maybe it’d already exploded in him, but it just… he couldn’t _wait_.

Then, still soft, Noct continued.

_“Specs says you guys got everything all set up.”_

“Yeah. Should be home in a week. Probably less since we’re flying.”

_“Man, you gotta tell me what that’s like. Those dropships always looked so freaky.”_

“I’ll take pictures. New phone, remember?”

_“Yeah.”_

“I, uh. I guess I should try to get some sleep. Kinda hard though.”

_“Tell me about it.”_

“What? Since when’ve you ever had trouble sleeping?”

Noct didn’t answer. Prompto felt that lump in his throat again.

“W-Well, anyway… I won’t be able to call tomorrow probably. Y’know, right tones coming from a chocobo butt probably a little suspicious.”

_“You’re the expert.”_

Prompto snickered and closed his eyes, fingers gently curled around the phone.

“I’ll text, though. I’ll keep you updated. I mean… I don’t… if it’s annoying or whatever, I’ll-”

 _“No. Never.”_ Prompto heard him shifting. _“I mean- it’s fine. It’s not annoying. Text whenever. Keep us updated.”_

“Okay.”

He exhaled, the breath shakier than he’d expect. Nerves. It’d go away, he just needed to sleep.

“Night.”

_“Night. Be… see you soon.”_

Prompto laid back down and stared at the ceiling again. He waited a while, went through their conversation on replay.

He lifted the phone and squinted through the glow before tapping out a text.

_‘ see u soon noct ‘_

His phone buzzed after a minute and Prompto read Noct’s reply at least a dozen times.

_‘ can’t wait ‘_

Prompto fell asleep with a smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

**_Time Remaining: 0 hours (Saturday, 0522)_ **

_Prompto:_   
_‘ at the station ‘_   
_‘ peace oouuut gralea! ‘_

_Noct-o:_   
_‘ hope u got some good souvenirs ‘_

_Prompto:_   
_‘ yup 2 new bros + 1 creepy dude ‘_   
_‘ happy early birthday! ‘_

_Noct-o:_   
_‘ uhh thanks? ‘_   
_‘ for real tho - safe trip ‘_   
_‘ and be careful ‘_   
_‘ text specs when u can ‘_

_Prompto:_   
_‘ yess ur majesty ‘_

_Noct-o:_   
_‘ dude no ‘_   
_‘ just noct ‘_

_Prompto:_   
_‘ u got it ‘_   
_‘ ur majestic noctness ‘_

“Pay attention.”

Prompto looked up from his phone, attention shooting toward Claud who had him set with a flat look. Even Fero frowned. Sacchi was pacing, fingers tight around his backpack straps.

“Sorry. Sorry, you’re right,” Prompto admitted. He stashed his phone in his pant pocket and reached up to adjust his baseball cap, Sacchi mirroring him and adjusting his beanie. Not totally necessary in Gralea, but the less attention they drew the better.

The enormous railway signs overhead glimmered in familiar red text, digital numbers spelling out the current hour.

05:22 - they had just over a half hour til the first train out of Gralea. Workers were sparse, but a few already started their shift.

Apparently satisfied, Claud turned back to his two associates, one of them the big beefy dude Prompto met at _Eos Oceanic Movers_ a few nights ago.

And apparently, he’d made a great impression if the way the guy kept looking at him was any indication.

Their little party lingered in the shadows tucked in the corner of the station and out of sight behind some out of commission rail cars.

“Everything all set?” Claud asked his guys, voice hushed.

“Yeah,” beefy guy muttered, “Kid’s gonna take care of the bribe in about five. That’s when we make our move.” He turned, stepped back a little and thumbed toward their train toward its tail end. “That car there, the one with wood slats on the outside? Door’s open, see it?”

They did. It was dark and hard to see, but animal stalls were beyond, floors wood and dusted with dried gysahl greens. No chocobos in there though- no animals at all.

“It’s empty.”

Beefy guy looked at Prompto like he was stupid which made him a little red faced and a little annoyed. It was too early and there was too much at risk, but the temptation to tell the jerk off was a force to be reckoned with.

“Not a lot of livestock to export outta Gralea, kid,” beefy guy muttered.

“Things’re mostly brought in from the country. And it ain’t usually chocobos. S’usually other beasts for slaughter,” Claud explained.

“Back to the plan, please,” Fero interjected.

“That’s all there is to it. Kid bribes worker, you all climb on while no one’s lookin’ and keep outta sight once you're on. No animals, but there’s stalls in there. Nobody really goes lookin’ in the cattle car,” beefy guy said. He turned, eyes on Claud.

“I owe you big for this one, brother,” Claud said.

Beefy guy’s expression went a little stony, kind of cold. He merely nodded once and looked at his younger counterpart.

“Time?”

“Just about 5:30.”

“Ok,” beefy guy handed him a wad of gil. “Go.”

The younger man left and beefy guy glanced back to Claud.

“You’re on your own. Good luck, Claudius.”

Claud held out his hand and it was a beat before the other took it. They shook and beefy guy was gone the way they came.

Okay. Time to do this.

Prompto leaned round the corner, the others doing the same.

There were three people out there, all train yard workers - not even the conductor around just yet. Two workers stood further off, one of them stepping onto the train and the other walking in the opposite direction.

And the last?

Shaking hands with the kid, a tired but satisfied smile on his face as he stuffed the fat was of cash in his coat pocket.

The kid looked over, motioned at them, the worker walking away, back turned.

Prompto looked up, the red digital letters changing in a flash.

05:30 on the dot.

It was time.

“Let’s go!” he ordered, eyes hard on their train car.

The doors stood open, the station empty and quiet even with their hurried footsteps.

They sprinted, all of them holding their breath. Claud ran out front, all business- Fero on Prompto’s left, his brows knit and face drawn in determination and Sacchi at his right, smiling big and wide, excited, nerves all but gone.

And Prompto mirrored him, his heart pounding like thunder, but his lips curled up, feet slapping against the concrete as he ran, as they moved in a single mass, a single unit and then-

 

Agony.

Agony, white hot like lightning, blinding. Scalding.

Prompto screamed, the sound aborted to silence, hand flying to his head as he stopped dead.

Alarms- were those alarms? Sirens whining and whirring so loudly he was sure they’d go deaf?

Lights. Lights, red and white, flashing- Prompto peeled open his eyes, blinked through the tears - _why was he crying? Was he even crying?-_ and planted his palms against his ears to drown out the noise.

“Get up! Tiny, get up!”

Someone - Sacchi. Sacchi was yelling, pulling on his arm, hard. He looked-

“ _Prompto!_ ”

That was Fero?

They pulled him to his feet and the world spun, a dizzy blur until things became inexplicably, painfully clear, like seeing so sharp and so focused it hurt.

He stood between Fero and Sacchi, their fingers curled around his arms as he slumped in against them for support. Claud stood nearby, close still, but in front of them and to the side. He had his hands up.

In surrender.

Why was he-

There.

There were MTs. The flashing lights glimmered on the silver of their steel bodies, red shining on their metal fingers curled around heavy rifles aimed right at them.

Right at Prompto. And Fero and Sacchi and even Claud.

Prompto swallowed what tasted like bile. His legs wouldn’t work- like they’d turned into jelly.

“Oh fuck, what the fuck- what happened? Fero, what the fuck.. Tiny.. Prompto…” Sacchi held him tight. It hurt.

Fero said nothing. He squeezed tighter, too, but it didn’t hurt.

Prompto blearily scanned the MTs approaching them, all of them closing in. He turned his head a little, saw them coming from this side- and from that- from behind and forwards and-

They were closing in.

“I warned you. A few times. About that cute attitude, didn’t I?”

Prompto looked over and saw him, a lone man amongst a wave of metal soldiers.

“Ter… Terreo…”

Terreo approached, ignoring the glares from the little Niffs, from his associate-gone-traitor, Claud - all of them remaining stone still with guns trained on them.

No, he only had eyes for the pathetic little failure of a soldier propped up right smack in the middle.

No harm done, though. Better late than never.

Terreo leaned in close, green eyes catching Prompto’s dazed blue. He set his hands on Prompto’s sides, patted him down slow finding nothing. Not like he had anything worthwhile. No possessions, no money. He was a runaway and even if he wasn’t, even if he’d been home, he had nothing worth stealing.

Except for a small little phone that buzzed once in his pocket right under the hot, heavy weight of Terreo’s hand.

“That was Code Red,” Terreo said, voice soft as he slid his hand into Prompto’s pocket and withdrew the phone. He looked down at it before glancing back up with a tiny smile. “His Highness says, ‘be careful.’”

Prompto watched him retreat, just a little, and then motion. The MTs moved without missing a beat, a handful forcing their way in. It was no use. Nobody could’ve done anything.

Not Claud with his ex-Crownsguard, current badass skills.

Not Sacchi with his cleverness.

Not Fero who knew these things inside and not, not with his years of military training.

And not Prompto.

Not ever. Because he’d tried.

He’d tried everything. They’d done everything.

And they ended up here.

Fero and Sacchi’s warm, careful hands were replaced with inescapable, iron-glad holds. Metal fingers, rigid and cruel, dug through his sleeves.

And it wasn’t just him. He looked on either side. Claud. Fero, Sacchi-

All of them in the iron grip of the Empire. Literally.

Another gesture and they were moving, carried away.

Just one word, one question, blasted around Prompto’s brain and drowned out everything else.

“..how?” he croaked, the world spinning again so much he was sure he’d be sick.

“Never trust a bounty hunter,” Terreo answered.

Prompto, the others, they looked expectantly at Claud. But as Prompto turned he saw- just there, a little blur in the background, was that kid.

And beefy guy.

And they were smiling.

Black edged around his vision. Like the time he’d been drugged but without any of that giddy feeling, without any of the delirious stupor.

Just empty now. And sick.

Prompto looked at Terreo, saw him typing. On his phone. On Prompto’s new phone, the one he only ever used to text Noct and talk to Ignis and-

“Wh … wha… “

He dipped in the MT’s hold, the world crumbling out beneath him.

But Terreo caught his meaning. He smiled.

“Just telling the prince about your change of plans.”

Prompto stared at him, that familiar face bleeding into a blurry black shadow, everything going mute and muffled except for:

“Says he’s looking forward to meeting you one on one. We’ll be sure to give him a nice surprise.”

Terreo didn’t say anything else. And if he did it was lost on Prompto as everything faded into nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof


	16. Spiral

_**Before** _

“Whom did you say was on the phone?”

“It’s Prompto.”

Ignis stared at his charge, face flat. There was no joking on Noctis’ face and even had there been, Ignis would’ve had his doubts. The prince had a very specific sense of humor.

This was not it.

He retrieved the phone and pressed it to his ear, eyes pointedly away from his royal highness.

“Good evening.”

“Uh. Um, hey, Ig- Ignis. Long time no, uh… y’know.”

Ignis frowned at the uncertain chuckle.

“Yes, that’s one way to put it.”

Silence on the other end. Ignis cleared his throat.

“Prompto,” he started, all business, only to be cut off.

“Look, I’m… I wouldn’t be calling if… so I’m in Gralea.”

Ignis gripped the phone tighter. It wasn’t exactly breaking news, but to hear it straight from the Chocobo’s mouth- it caught him off guard.

“I’m… I’m not sure if you’ll believe me, but I’m not… “ Ignis heard Prompto sigh in a huff, “I’m not a spy. I’d never do that to Noct. I’m- So, yeah.”

“Prompto…”

“I’m trying to get back, that’s why- I mean, a spy wouldn’t tell you that, right?” Ignis practically heard Prompto’s grimace through the phone. “But- look, we’ve got a plan, I’ve got a few friends coming with. Out of the Empire. This place is… it’s not good. And- Oh, yeah, my- this guy I met, Fero, he’s an Empire Officer. In the military. Or like- I mean, he used to be, but he’s totally game for sharing secrets and stuff. And look, I know- I mean, if you guys gotta lock me up or whatever that’s cool, I get it, but there’s stuff we need to tell you. Like how the Empire’s trying to cause trouble. So we just needed help getting back and-”

“Prompto.”

Ignis waited a beat and proceeded when the other line remained quiet.

“Tell me what you need. We can discuss my personal stance on the matter when you get back. We’ll arrange an… entourage to escort you back to Insomnia, but until that time I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you refrain from calling Noctis directly.”

“What?” Noct sat up, brows knit. Ignis held up a hand and continued.

“You’re right. There will be a lot to answer for, Prompto, and your return won’t be easy. However, if you are forthcoming and cooperative, I see no reason for your detainment to be indefinite.” Ignis let his hand fall and turned away. “Do we have an agreement?”

“Understood,” Prompto answered without missing a beat.

Ignis quelled his tiny smile and bowed his head. “So tell me about this plan.”

“Oh! Yeah, so like, you know there’s only trains in and outta Gralea? Well we were thinking…”

By the time they hung up everything was settled.

Which was why Ignis was again caught off guard as a grim-faced Noct, over breakfast one morning, informed him of the delay. A text, from Prompto, sent early.

Prompom:  
_‘almost got caught- will update w/new plan soon’_

“Nothing since this morning,” Noct mumbled, a crease in his forehead, “Think he’s okay?”

Ignis looked back down at the phone.

“I’m sure he'll be just fine.”

 

* * *

 

Every few seconds, behind his eyelids, there was a flash. The light would bleed through his skin, turn everything red and then disappear. Rinse. Repeat.

Prompto squeezed his shut eyes harder to try and will himself unconscious again. No use. The racing thoughts were too fast and too loud. He opened his eyes and frowned at the sterile hallway in front of him.

Floor to ceiling was sleek stone grey and steel blue, harsh fluorescent lights overhead every few steps. Which explained the flashes.

Solid metal fingertips bit into his arms on either side. Prompto’s body wasn’t exactly cooperating, gravity bogging him down and digging those metal digits in even more. His rubber toed sneakers squeaked and caught against the smooth tile as he was dragged along. He briefly dared to look to his left and it confirmed the suspicions he’d hoped were some fever dream instead of real life.

Magitek Troopers. One on his left and one on his right.

It all came back, a flood of everything he felt and everything it meant all bleeding into an incoherent static that left him tingling.

How long until they got where they were going? He didn’t want an answer, not to any of the hundred questions swirling around in his head, but he had to ask them one by one to push down the panic.

Because they’d had a plan.

They’d had a plan and now they had… nothing.

Okay. Okay, things were… pretty bleak, yeah, but he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t go down that path. That train of thought? Yeah. Nothing good waiting down there.

And, well, hadn’t he gotten out of pretty bad situations before? No biggie, right?

Right.

Prompto conceded and let himself wake up all the way. The world came into focus. He struggled to find his footing but managed to kinda-sorta keep pace with the MTs as they moved down the hall.

Up ahead was a door, this one guarded unlike the billion other doors they passed.

Had to be their destination ‘cause Prompto was pretty sure these things weren’t just taking him out for a nice walk.

The door wooshed open and they went inside.

Fero was there on his knees, blue eyes hard and locked on Prompto’s face. His whole face was hard. It was the same look he had when they first met.

But it was more than that.

Terror.

Fero had it masked. Like really masked, hidden deep down all the way, but it was there, just that little glimmer in his eyes. He had his fingers curled and useless in his lap as he turned to look to an old man.

The Research Chief.

Verstael Besithia.

For the first time Prompto looked around the room. He’d never seen any place like it. There was a vibe here, something in the walls and in the air. It made his hair stand on end.

Prompto focused when he felt eyes on him and caught Verstael staring, fascinated.

“Ta… take a picture. It’ll last longer,” he slurred, half the words mumbled nonsense.

Man. His voice was wrecked.

Prompto’s gaze fell to Fero. He was alone, no one else except for the Minister and a handful of MTs. Where was…

“Sa… Sacchi?”

“He’s fine. Not here,” Fero answered tonelessly.

“Sadly your co-conspirators fall outside military jurisdiction,” Verstael sighed, “The Lucian and the civilian will face justice in an Imperial Court.”

Prompto sank in relief. That was good. At least Sacchi was safe. Well, okay. Maybe not _safe_ exactly, but he wasn’t here at least. Which had to be a good thing, ‘cause-

“Where are we?” Prompto croaked and licked his lips.

Verstael seemed to brighten despite his apparently permanent scowl.

“You’ll find yourself reacquainted soon enough, my son.”

Did…

Did he…?

_Son?_

“Don’t.”

Verstael looked at Fero, that brightness diminishing in an instant.

“If only his homecoming weren’t sullied with the presence of a traitor,” Verstael hummed.

“ _His_ ,” Fero laughed, “What are you, some… some proud father? Let him go. He’s just a kid.”

“Father,” Verstael echoed with a half-smile, blue eyes drifting to Prompto in awe, “I suppose, in some sense… aren’t they all my children?”

He approached and Prompto shrunk back in vain. There was nowhere to go. There was nowhere to run.

Verstael wrapped his fingers around Prompto’s wrist and gently pushed up his sleeve.

“Zero-five-nine-five-three-two-three-four.”

“Unit 05953234 confirmed,” rang a familiar voice from nowhere, feminine and just as sterile as everything else in this nightmare, “Warning: this unit has been compromised.”

Prompto’d heard that before. Why had he heard that before?

“What… the hell does that mean?” Prompto bit, voice hoarse. Verstael looked up at him, grinning, and he immediately regretted asking.

“It means-”

“Stop,” Fero pleaded. Prompto knew what it was now, in his voice.

Desperation.

“It means,” Verstael began again and let Prompto’s hand fall, “You’ll be fixed.”

“Enough!”

Verstael looked over and Fero glared back in fury.

“He’s just one sample, right? What’s one loss? You have enough. Just let him go. If you want someone to play around with, use me,” Fero leaned forward, “I signed my life over to the Empire. He didn’t.” He paused, head bowed. “Please, Chief Besithia.”

Prompto stared down at him, lips parted to argue because what the hell was Fero thinking? What was he even saying?

Sample? What did that mean? What did Fero mean the researcher had enough?

He got… Prompto got the gist. The implications. But it couldn’t be, right?

Was this one of those red lines Fero mentioned? Was this why he left?

The Minister turned, gaze hard on the AWOL officer at his feet.

“Ensign Pietas, if I’m not mistaken.”

Fero remained still. Prompto barely saw him breathing.

“Begging is unbecoming of an Imperial officer,” the old man crowed while motioning to the MTs, one immediately moving toward him, “But I suppose it’s to be expected of a traitorous leech.”

Prompto’s gut clenched. He didn’t give a crap if this guy was the Minister or whatever. He growled, lips parting to tell the guy off, but stopped short when the Minister took a pistol from the MT beside him.

Prompto’s blood was ice when Verstael thumbed off the safety and pressed the barrel square between Fero’s eyes.

“No!”

Verstael turned to look at him, the gun still expertly trained on Fero. He stared at Prompto and tilted his head, silver brows sewn together.

“Are you… _fond_ of him?” Verstael asked as though the mere concept were preposterous.

“Don’t hurt him,” Prompto seethed, “If you do I’ll… just don’t.”

“A defective unit giving orders,” Verstael shook his head, incredulous, “Another aberration to be corrected, two-three-four. ALbeit a fascinating one. I look forward to our future together.”

Two-three-four?

Oh. Like… like the end of his ‘code.’

“But first,” Verstael turned to Fero, “we must be rid of unnecessary distractions.”

He pushed the barrel forward and Fero closed his eyes. Prompto saw the indent against Fero’s forehead.

“Stop!”

Verstael’s finger curled round the trigger

“ _Stop!_ ”

A sharp bang, deafening, and Prompto squeezed his eyes shut.

Then a laugh, deep and familiar and he peeled open his eyes in disbelief.

“Guess the doors get kinda finickey around here. Sorry about that, Sir.”

Prompto shot his eyes open and looked over. Terreo stood in the doorway as said finicky doors banged shut behind him.

“Terreo,” Verstael lowered the gun to his side. “What brings you here?”

“My charge,” he nodded at Prompto.

Prompto who stared at Fero who was very much alive and unharmed. For now.  

“Kid might have a point, Chief Besithia.” Terreo glanced to Fero, “Better used for research than fertilizer, right?”

Fero looked at Terreo and they caught eyes. Prompto looked from one to the other unable to read whatever it was that passed between them.

“Only if Prompto goes free,” Fero said.

Terreo shook his head. “No dice, Ensign. You gotta know that’s not how this works.”

Prompto glanced to the Minister who seemed to be considering his options.

“I suppose that’s a fair point. It is certainly wasteful to dispose of a perfectly healthy individual. I’m certain your father would be proud of your foresight,” Verstael praised before glancing aside, “Units.”

The MTs stood to attention.

“Relocate Ensign Pietas to 114B. And adjust the Ensign’s identification code. Reassign from staff to the Project DEATHLESS sample code.”

A beat and then the MTs were moving again, two taking Fero by each arm. His eyes were wide, blue and wild and darting from one MT to the next before shooting to the Minister and Terreo and Prompto.

“No, wait. Let him go, Minister!” he shouted as he was dragged off, “Minister! _Prompto!_ ”

The same faulty door banged open then shut and Fero was gone.

And it was quiet.

“As for you…”

Prompto stared at the door like he’d come back, bursting through the door and laughing and it’d all be some crazy joke. The whole thing.

Or maybe Prompto’d wake up on Sacchi’s couch, shivering under a parka and smelling Fero’s Ebony brewing one room over. Maybe he’d wake up in the green room, perfume stinging his eyes and music thumping behind the walls.

Or he’d wake up in Noct’s living room, on the sofa, under a blanket and smell Ignis cooking and hear Noct complaining to Gladio about homework or-

Or he’d wake up alone. At home. In the dark.

“It took forever but I’m glad to see him back in your hands, Minister,” Terreo mused, “It was tough- watching them parade a soldier around like that.”

“Indeed,” Verstael agreed and stood before Prompto, fingers laced together behind his back.

“So… what do you think?” Terreo pressed.

“There are preliminary tests to be run. I will await the results and see where 234 stands. I’d prefer to avoid the unfortunate breakdowns my earlier specimens experienced. Ego may yet prove a problem. However…” The minister reached out (Prompto flinched) and smoothed down the blond’s cowlick, “To think… one of my experiments developed an ego. A sense of self. Incredible.”

One of his… one of his _experiments._

It… did that mean he was…

“Why me?”

Verstael looked over and considered him, a grim smile pulling at the heavy lines on his face.

“Because you are one of millions created to serve our great Empire.” Verstael paused and smiled, “Or perhaps… rather, you are one in a million. _My_ creation.”

“What kinda trooper was he supposed to be? I’m guessing rifleman? Fraus mentioned the kid had good aim.”

Terreo said it so blasé. Like it meant nothing.

“Sniper,” Verstael answered and withdrew, “However, 234’s designation is now yet to be determined.”

Rifleman. Sniper.

That’s what his barcode meant.

Prompto was acutely aware metal fingers digging into his arms. He couldn’t help himself. He looked over and an impassive green, metal face stared back.

Magitek. He was supposed to be…

How close had it been for him? One change and it’d be him there, in all that armor, holding some other poor sucker in his place and ready to kill on command.

Unable to even… to even think or feel or…

“Units.”

Prompto tensed and felt sick when the MTs holding him did the same.

“Record and relay message for Lieutenant Hiems.” Verstael waited until spying a small but bright blinking light on one of the MT’s chest plates. “Attention Lieutenant Saeva Himes: For your SA, Unit 05953234 has been recovered and is secured in 7A. Begin preliminary suitability screening and send a report of results as soon as possible. 05953234 is to be kept under armed guard and confined at all times barring testing. SITREPs are to be reported to me at 1900 daily. Transmission complete.”

The blinking stopped.

“Place Unit 05953234 in a storage pod in hall 7A.”

With a lurch they moved deeper into the bowels of whatever kind of nightmare hell this place was.

Prompto didn’t even struggle. He just watched the toes of his sneakers rub over the immaculate tile as they dragged him along.

“Back where you belong,” he heard Terreo from a distance.

Prompto wondered who he really meant.

 

* * *

 

 

There was no point in fighting. At least not until they got to hall 7A.

Prompto raised his head when the MTs finally came to a halt. The conversation’d been on repeat in his head for the duration of their little walk, key points blasting out over and again until he was sure he could recite the whole thing by memory. But then everything came to a dead stop.

Because now he knew what Verstael meant by ‘storage pod.’

Prompto barely registered hearing the doors close behind them, but he was sure he’d heard them lock, a loud, whirring click he hadn’t heard anywhere else.

No, he stared dead-pan straight forward.

This couldn’t be right. The MTs made a mistake. That had to be it.

It was a room of hallways, each fading into black and rising vertical until they disappeared. Rows and columns, stacks and walls, of what looked like black metal containers, each with shiny, solid doors. It was dark but not pitch thanks to the lines of glowing red lights that seemed to go on for miles, one for each individual pod.

Not all the lights were red. A few containers had green lights.

Like the one Prompto found himself face-to-face with.

One of the MTs reached up with its right arm. A scan and a beep later and the container’s door wooshed open.

POD:80971_7A_W-WING

They marched forward again, this time guiding Prompto inside the box.

Or trying to, at least.

Prompto pulled back and shook his head so hard it hurt but he didn’t care. There was nothing in there, barely enough room to stand. It was dark and there was no light and no- he couldn’t, he _couldn’t_.

“No!” Prompto hissed, fists flying but arms caught by the overwhelming strength of the troopers, “You can’t! I’m not… I’m… I’m human. I _am!_ ”

Yeah. Maybe he was. And he was weak.

They shoved him in. The scanner beeped a second time and the door closed.

Prompto stood alone in the dark and listened to the heavy metal footfalls that carried the MTs away.

 

* * *

 

How long was it now?

It had to be a few days, right? No way it was just hours. Or… or minutes or anything.

It was… heh. It was actually kinda nice. The quiet. He could hear himself think.

Prompto pushed his fingers into his stomach when it groaned, the rumbles vibrating through his bones. It hadn’t been _that_ long. Maybe a day or two at worst.

Since he last ate.

No biggie.

He opened his eyes- or… or he thought he did. He poked at one and winced. Yeah, they were open. Just couldn't tell in here. It was dark, so. So yeah.

His stomach grumbled again. He shoved his fists in harder and pushed.

He hadn’t heard footsteps for a while. Not since the two MTs dropped him off. Did the Minister forget about him?

That was probably a good thing- if he did forget, that is.

Prompto licked his lips, felt how dry and cracked they were. He swallowed, his throat dry- parched.

He leaned down and pressed his hands hard against his forehead. Just pushed. Pushed and pushed and pressed and prayed.

Sample.

_Experiment._

He wasn’t. He wasn’t…

He was one of _them_ . An MT. Created to _serve._

How much of it was real? How much of it all, of everything? Of his life? What, was he… was he programmed or something? Is that… Was that why he and Noct…

He and… he and Noct were friends, right? For real? He didn’t… it wasn’t some kind of…

It wasn’t some kind of plan.

Right?

He swept his legs in close, arms curled around them. His stomach whined again and he buried his face against his knees. He felt like crying. He wanted to. But he didn't. Nothing happened, nothing came. Tear malfunction or something.

So he just closed his eyes and hugged in his knees and counted from one to one-hundred a thousand times.

Then there were footsteps. Not metal. Human. It had to be human. It was a human. That was good. That had to be good.

They stopped in front of his pod. Prompto stared straight ahead. At least, he thought so. It was so dark. He couldn’t tell.

The door wooshed open and he grimaced at the light and covered his eyes.

It was a woman in a white coat, the white so bright it hurt even in the dark and dingy hall 7A.

“Two-thirty-four,” the woman said looking up at him from her clipboard. She frowned at him. “Retrieve it.”

An MT did so. Prompto fell forward into its metal arms.

“Where are we going?” Prompto asked, voice a ghost of a whisper when he got his legs to work.

“Preliminary testing,” the woman- the doctor said aloud and further clarified, “Blood draw. To see if you have any remnants from your creation.”

Creation.

He wondered on that the whole walk the laboratory.

They arrived and he sat in the chair she indicated. The doctor roamed the little room, retrieving a syringe and several vials and a blue little rubber tourniquet-looking band that ended up wrapped snug around his forearm. She took vial after vial, blood in each of them up to the rim, a red so dark it was almost black.

And the whole time, she frowned.

“It looks human.”

Prompto clenched his fists.

“Take 05953234 back to 7A.”

They did.

It happened over and again, these little excursions, each for a blood draw or a urine sample or something equally fun and not at all invasive.

Each time Doctor Himes told him nothing. She just took her sample, frowned at it, and sent him back to his pod.

Where he sat. And waited.

It was taking just samples until it wasn’t.

On his thirteenth visit, Prompto started for the same chair until Himes held up a hand. She shook her head at him and motioned aside, behind her.

Behind the curtain.

Prompto swallowed, eyes on the Lieutenant.

“Th… there?”

She scowled at him.

He went.

Behind the curtain was a table, cold and silver and he stared at it numb. She couldn’t be serious.

Of course she could. Everything else had been. How long had it been, now, anyway?

Prompto stood stock still. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t.

Not like he had much choice.

A snap of the Doctor’s fingers and one MT later and Prompto was flat against the table, the metal cool against his naked, freckled skin prickled with goosebumps. He stared at the ceiling and counted the tiles.

Four. Four big ones.

He counted them until numbers lost meaning.

But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to distract him from the pinprick. It was sharp and fast and he made the mistake of looking down at the needle sliding into his skin.

Doctor Himes stood over him, syringe in hand full of a something that was black and looked somewhere between liquid and smoke.

“What is that?” Prompto bit out, voice hoarse from disuse.

“Plasmodium malariae,” she said as casual as commenting about the weather, “Starscourge.”

Prompto looked at his arm where the needle disappeared and until the syringe was empty.

 

* * *

 

 

**SITUATION REPORT: 1900 HOURS 17th January M.E. 754**

_Unit 05953234_

_Initial suitability screening result:_

_Detected minimal trace amounts of mutant strain: Plasmodium malariae in subject’s blood. Re-integration determined beneficial to viability of subject for use in further experimentation. Subject maintains consistent appearance of health and consciousness._

_Excellent response to stimuli thus far. Potential for full integration into PROJECT LOVELESS (PL). PROJECT DEATHLESS (PD) integration yet to be determined. PD integration not recommended due to potential for ego death (see PD MODELS First Generation)._

_LT S. HIMES administered 1st series of PL injection at 1630 17th January ME 754. Reaction pending._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry about the delay. Worked 14 days straight and then just been burnout mode. Trying to get my shiz together. And here I thought torturing Prompto would lighten my spirits. Sigh D:
> 
> Thank you all for your patience! I will do my best to get back on schedule :)


	17. Testing

“This is the entire tape?”

“Yessir, Mr. Scientia. That’s right. You wanted the tapes from -huh, what was it… that first Saturday in November, right? The morning?”

“That’s correct.”

“Well, then ya should be all good to go, sir!”

Ignis turned the tape over in his hand, brows sewn. Somehow he’d ended up in charge of collecting it from the police station. Not that it was much trouble. The trip to Prompto’s district and this station in particular weren't terribly out of the way. That and Gladio had agreed to see Noct to and from school.

Hopefully, he mused, this would provide them with some answers. Assuming Prompto was visible at all.

“You have my thanks,” Ignis offered the officer with a nod.

He paused in the parking lot on his way to the car, gaze drifting in the direction of Whisperweed Park where, supposedly, it all went down. Whatever ‘it’ was, that is.

It’d been how long now since his disappearance? At least three months. If that was the case then…

Where on Eos were the boy’s parents?

No police report filed, at least not according to this precinct, but if memory served (as it often did) databases were linked from district to district.

Ignis slipped into the driver’s seat, the tape neatly tucked on the passenger side. He curled his fingers round the wheel, sat and let the hot air flowing out the vents warm the interior. He looked at the clock, green digital numbers staring back. Maybe about an hour or so until he should expect Noct and Gladio back.

He had plenty of time for a detour.

Just like the trip to the police station, traffic in this district at this hour of day was light, always a pleasant surprise. Minutes later, Ignis neatly parallel parked alongside Prompto’s apartment and stepped out.

No lights on inside, but not unusual for during working hours.

What was unusual, however, were the bright red notices stuffed inside the door crease.

Ignis frowned and plucked one out, the others tumbling to the ground in a rainbow of warning colors from yellow to orange.

“Eviction…?” he read, frowning. He glanced toward the mail boxes.

Sure enough, the box for Prompto’s apartment number stood stuffed full and overflowing.

Loathe to snoop but proceeding anyway Ignis retrieved letter after letter, bill after bill, his frown bleeding to a grimace.

He held the mail in one hand, the other fishing his phone from his pocket. He dialed and held it up, grip tight.

“Sir?” asked some poor Crownsguard on the other line.

“I need some information,” Ignis explained, “It pertains to the Argentum case.”

“Yes, sir, right away, sir- let me know what you need and we can get it to you ASAP.”

Ignis looked over to the abandoned little apartment, a surge of indignant fury gripping his heart. “See if you can contact Mr. and Mrs. Argentum,” he said, “If not, I want whatever information you can compile on them.”

“Mr. and Mrs… yes, sir, shouldn’t take long. I think we can have something to you by close of business today.”

“I appreciate it.”

He ended the call, skulked back to his car, and opened one of the late payment letters.

“Overdue… four months? That’s longer than… “ Ignis read and re-read the letter. Electric bill, overdue as of mid-October - scratch that, due as of mid-November following an extension request submitted by one Prompto Argentum. _‘Due to financial hardship.’_

Ignis glared at the letter like it’d personally insulted him.

What did this mean, exactly? Was Prompto struggling? If the agent stories were true, this wouldn’t surprise him - why bother paying one’s bills if one intended to disappear into the ether anyway?

Even if that were the case, though, it would be sloppy espionage. It’d leave a trail - and it’d certainly obliterate any possibility for reassignment.

If that were _not_ the case… then this meant that Prompto…

Financial hardship. The boy was barely eighteen and shouldn’t have to have known the meaning of _financial hardship._

Ignis revved the engine and started for Noct’s apartment, eager to examine one of the more vital pieces of this puzzle.

He’d beaten Noct and Gladio back, perhaps by a good forty minutes - most of which was spent viewing the security footage.

Regardless of technological advances it must be an unwritten rule that security cameras produce only the most frustratingly blurry, grainy film known to man. Even so, Ignis could make out figures - in particular, one sporting a strangely styled crop of blond hair.

And then another, larger figure seated down a ways from said blond.

They talked, though about what Ignis couldn’t determine, but Prompto on the screen rose and began to back away, movement stilted and awkward. He never saw the second figure approaching from behind.

This didn’t look planned. It didn’t look like some devious, ingenious clandestine operation.

This looked like a kidnapping.

Ignis’ heart sped and he gnawed on his tongue while he watched the drag Prompto into the car, not at all the willing participant. And then the car pulled away, leaving the scene quiet and untouched as though nothing had ever happened, the only evidence a tiny little blip on the screen that would be Prompto’s phone.

Two accomplices and a third as the driver. _That_ was an operation, an organized, premeditated one specifically targeting Prompto just _one day_ after trailing behind the Prince.

Ignis leaned back and removed his glasses, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose.

They’d known Ignis was onto them. They knew Noctis would be well guarded, even more so than usual.

So they’d gone after the easier target.

The door swung open.

“A few months’ll go by fast. He’ll be back before you know it.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still a long time to go. And now he’s not picking up my calls.”

“Back off the communication for a bit. Blondie’s trying to fly under the radar, right? You really wanna be the one to give him away?”

Ignis looked over just as Noct heaved a sigh and shucked his bookbag aside. He closed his laptop and stood, barely managing a grim smile as he greeted them.

“Everything went well I trust?”

Both looked over, Noct muttering a, “Hey Specs,” while Gladio actually answered.

“His Highness’s got another fitting this weekend for graduation.”

“Can’t wait,” Noct muttered.

“That’s right,” Ignis noted as he whipped out his phone to tap down notes, “That’s coming up soon. Send me the details.”

Gladio nodded and plunked down on the sofa next to Noct.

“What’s the point, anyway?” Noct murmured, “I get the diploma no matter what, right? So why walk?”

“What, you shy all of a sudden, Princess?”

“Gladio,” Ignis scolded, earning a sheepish grin. He looked to Noct. “If I recall, you specifically requested to participate in the ceremony.”

Noct shrugged and pulled out his phone, eyes on the screen.

Ignis watched him and knit his brows. “Could it be you don’t want to walk alone?”

“Alone? There’s a ton of kids at that school - all the seniors are gonna be walking,” Gladio said.

“All but one.” Ignis sighed as they both glanced up. He turned and motioned to his laptop and the stack of letters beside it. “I stopped by Prompto’s apartment after picking up the security tapes.”

“You got them?” Noct jumped up and hurried over, Gladio close behind.

“What’re these?” Gladio asked and scooped up the bills. Noct glanced over while prying open the laptop.

“Eviction notices.”

“What? Who’s getting-”

“It seems Prompto’s rent has been unpaid for quite some time.”

“Same goes for his electric,” Gladio muttered and thumbed through, “And water.”

“That place is _still_ empty?”

Ignis and Gladio looked at Noct who glared at the screen.

“I went by there a while ago. It didn’t look like anyone’d been home for a while, at least not a few weeks. I thought… his parents _still_ aren’t…”

“Would it be too much to assume Prompto left you a spare key?” Ignis mumbled.

Noct shrugged and pulled up the footage files on Ignis’ laptop.

“I just wanted to see if maybe he left a note or something. So, what? That means his parents haven’t been home for like…”

“Four months at least,” Ignis supplied.

“And not paying their bills either,” Gladio muttered, “You see this one? Financial hardship?”

“I did.”

“Iggy,” Gladio said and looked up, face grim, “If the kid was having money trouble… people after Noct mighta smelled a vulnerability.”

Noct snapped his gaze toward Gladio, “What are you saying?”

“Might I suggest we all watch the tapes before jumping to conclusions?” Ignis cut in, “I considered the same possibility, but the tape… just watch.”

They did.

Ignis leaned back when it was finished, gaze drifting between them. Gladio fumed, brows furrowed and the crease between them deep. His massive fingers clenched into fists so tight his skin went white.

Noct sat, dark eyes hard on the floor and body still as stone.

No one said a word and the minutes ticked by in silence.

“It’s my fault.”

Ignis and Gladio looked up.

“They were after me, right?” Noct grit out through his teeth, “They couldn’t get me, so they… so Prompto was…”

“No disrespect, Highness, but I was unaware you were hiring mercenaries on the side.”

Noct looked at Ignis, eyes wide. “What?”

“No? Well if you didn’t hire those men then I fail to see how you’re at fault.”

“They were after _me_ ,” Noct bit and pushed himself up, “Why else would they grab him?”

“There’s gotta be more to it.” They looked at Gladio as he continued, “If it was just about Noct don’t you think they’d’ve made contact by now? For ransom - a deal or something, right? Why take him all the way to Gralea? Why the show?”

“The reports of Prompto’s supposed betrayal have sewn distrust amongst citizens - we’ve seen as much,” Ignis planted his hands on the counter top and looked between them, “He was clearly taken against his will. From the Empire’s perspective, I can certainly see the strategic use of spreading this kind of propaganda but assuming the stories are false the Empire could have spun them at any time without Prompto.”

“Okay. So then why take him?” Noct asked.

More silence, the weight of it settling on them all like a blanket.

Gladio stood as well and folded his arms across his chest, expression stern. He caught eyes with Ignis then looked to Noct with a frown.

“Look, I don’t want this to come out wrong, but… blondie’s a Niff.”

“Gladio,” Ignis frowned, brows pinched.

Noct shot Gladio a look and bristled.

“What does _that_ have to do with anything?”

“I’m just sayin’ maybe there’s more to him than we thought. They probably grabbed him to get to you. Who’s to say maybe someone in the Empire was more interested in him.”

“Why?” Noct asked, hesitant. “Who the hell would-”

“Maybe they were interested in what he knows about you. Or the citadel. Hell, even Iggy and me. Maybe he was the safer bet outta the two of you.”

“Then they still took him because he’s my friend.” Noct sat down again, hands raking through his hair as he closed his eyes. Was it too much to ask for? One friend, _one_?

And not just any friend. The best.

“Regardless of their motivations the fact remains the same - Prompto was taken against his will into enemy territory. This bodes ill for the Empire. They’re essentially holding a Lucian citizen hostage,” Ignis said.

“Like a prisoner of war?” Gladio tried.

“Something like that,” Ignis continued, “The point is we should have some legal recourse.”

Noct glanced up. “Like what?”

“Negotiation, for starters. It’s rare, but Niflheim do send emissaries from time to time. Gladio, perhaps this might be a topic to bring up with your father,” Ignis trailed off. They had some options, but any actions taken would be well above any of their pay grade - even Noct. He plucked up one of the letters off the counter. “And… “

Gladio and Noct looked over.

“Yeah?” Noct urged.

“When we do get him back,” Ignis set the letter down and caught eyes, “I believe we should introduce Prompto to the concept of ‘asking for help.’”

 

* * *

 

“Faster.”

“I’m going as fast as I can.”

The treadmill sped up. Prompto sucked in a breath, sweat rolling down his face in heavy beads into his already soaked shirt.

His footfalls were sloppy, gait uncoordinated. This was too fast - and he was a runner, it’s what he did, but this was an all out balls-to-the-wall sprint.

“It’s” -he gasped for breath- “It’s too… I c-can’t-”

Doctor Himes looked at her tablet, the screen shining up his undulating stats. Heart rate, body temperature (which was getting higher by the second), and oxygen levels. And there in the corner of the screen was control for the cardio testing, including speed for the treadmill.

It was only fifteen miles per hour. Two-Three-Four could stand it a little longer.

And so he did, for another 30 seconds, before the doctor raised the level again to sixteen-point-five mph.

He tripped over himself and was flung against the glass panels like being fired from a slingshot. In a heap, he groaned and clutched at his sides, face shining with sweat and hair matted to his cheeks.

And a blossom of red seeping through his damp white shirt.

Himes frowned at him and looked down. Well, he’d run a good twenty minutes at varying paces, the latter ten at speeds higher than an average human male of his age.

But still disappointingly less than an average MT of 234’s model year.

234 was the prototype, the first experiment of his kind. Spectacular failure was not only predicted- it was expected.

Himes looked up from the screen, narrow blue eyes peering out from behind thick glasses at the humanoid on its hands and knees, chest heaving and spitting up something reddish-black.

She lowered her tablet, lips pursing in surprise.

Crawling up its throat like spiderwebs she saw 234’s veins black and stark against sheet-white flesh. The color faded as 234’s heart rate slowed, the stress of exercise dissipating with time.

A flare up?

Whatever it was the sign was clear. 234’s body accepted the first dose and it was time to administer a second.

Himes pressed on a button, her stern voice bleating over the intercom into 234’s room.

“Two-Three-Four.”

The unit kept its forehead planted against cool tile, panting and struggling for breath.

“Two-Three-Four,” Himes repeated.

No response.

She scowled at it through the glass panel. Defective little thing. Her work could go so much more smoothly if only the damned unit obeyed.

“Unit 05953234,” Himes commanded, “Respond or I will be forced to issue Code Red.”

Ah. That got its attention.

Two-three-four scrambled drunkenly to its feet. It managed a sort of half-stance, leaning against the wall for support. It wouldn’t look at her which was well enough anyway.

In this moment Two-Three-Four really, truly looked human.

How disturbing.

“Proceed to 1B for the next evolution.”

234 looked up, looked straight at her through the glass. It gaped stupidly, face gaunt and pallid.

“I… I can’t… my… my head.” 234 trailed off, its free hand sweeping up and pressing against its forehead.

“A mild fever,” Himes supplied with a frown and looked at the tablet. Forty-one degrees Celsius. 234 was fine. Especially considering the next evolution.

“Unit 05752218.” One of the two MTs nearby stood to attention, “Take 234 to 1B.”

1B was cold.

Himes watched once more through a glass panel, the setup similar to the physical exertion room.

In the room beyond 234 stood, shivering, slender arms curled around its chest and lips a shade of pale blue.

Himes looked at her tablet and lowered the temperature in 1B further.

234 rubbed its exposed arms, skin pricked with goosebumps. The tips of its blond hair were frosted, perhaps with sweat-turned-ice. Its face had gone rosy from the cold, but its eyes, hyper focused, began to glaze.

It skulked around the room, puffs of breath appearing in the frigid air, trying desperately to warm itself.

Himes again looked at her tablet. Body temperature of 36 degrees celsius. Well, took care of the fever.

She lowered the temperature again.

For ten minutes 234 wandered aimlessly within 1B.

At twelve minutes it was sat in a corner, knees hugged into its chest, no longer shivering. Its eyes were skyward, briefly, before they closed.

Ah. Once again, there appeared the creeping black veins.

So stress was a trigger.

Himes took a note.

At fifteen minutes she sent Unit 218 to retrieve 234, its body temperature having dipped to 24 degrees celsius.

An average human would perish. An average MT would remain optimally functional at such a temperature.

234 lay unconscious.

Himes sighed in irritation and motioned for 218.

“Don’t let it die,” Himes muttered, “Return 234 to storage.”

The MT tossed blanket over 234 and carried it out of her sight.

Good riddance.

Hopefully the second series of Plasmodium malariae would improve 234’s viability. Himes certainly hoped so.

 

* * *

 

Prompto opened his eyes and stared into darkness.

Everything hurt. He get in a fight or something? And lose?

He turned to move, to get some feeling back in his body, and stopped short when he hit metal on all sides. Metal and a scratchy blanket that was definitely not his bed comforter.

It all came bleeding back in snippets at first, the memories, the awareness. Then it poured in like a flood.

His arms didn’t want to cooperate. Lifting one was like trying to pick up a house. He squinted through the dark and winced at the tingles shooting from his fingertips to his toes.

And like a shock, pain shot from his upper arm. He poked at it, fingers trembling, and felt a little bump.

Another injection, huh?

Strained from the effort Prompto let his arms fall again, both useless at his side. He leaned back, the crown of his head planted against the cool metal which actually felt kinda nice.

He’d been cold before, in that room - at least according to his fuzzy memories - but it was muggy here in the pod. Hot and humid.

That and he started trembling again.

This was it, right? There was… was there any way out?

Not like this. Not when he couldn’t even lift his own hands. Prompto wasn’t sure he could even stand right now let alone escape on foot.

And the worst of it?

It wasn’t just him. He had to drag other people into it.

He hadn’t thought of them in a while. Well, he hadn’t had a minute to think for a while, not with all the… the tests.

But Fero and Sacchi… and hell, even Claud?

They were all suffering. He’d made their lives miserable all because he couldn’t just… just stay out of it. Out of their lives.

And… and not to mention…

He’d done the same thing to Noct.

Noct was in trouble, now more than ever, because Terreo snatched Prompto’s phone. And he doubted the guy just wanted to let Noct know about Prompto’s well-being.

Seriously, could he… could he do _anything_ right? Anything good? At all?

The people who helped him - the people he cared about most -

He practically led them all to their end.

Prompto’s thoughts cut off when the pod door whirred open and lights shined in on him. He winced and looked up, neck straining, and retreated into the pod at the sight.

“Two-Three-Four,” Chief Besithia hummed, “You’re looking well.”

_Yeah, I’ll bet I do you fucking-_

“Lieutenant Himes tells me the experiments have been… inconclusive thus far.” Besithia paused and leaned forward, ice-blue eyes roaming over Prompto’s prone form. “Perhaps series two will yield more interesting results.”

Series…? Oh.

Prompto’s fingers absently rubbed at the injection spot on his arm. So they did it again, huh?

Starscourge?

His attention drifted back to the Minister, the old man watching him with that same bizarre intrigue. Prompto swallowed around the lump in his throat. He’d back away further if he had the energy.

“How do you feel?”

Prompto snorted, soft and weak. He saw Besithia’s lip twitch.

“Su… super,” Prompto whispered, throat raw.

Besithia leaned down and into Prompto’s space. Screw it - energy or no energy, he inched back or at least tried his damnedest to.

“No,” Besithia pressed, voice low, “How do you _feel_?”

Prompto stared at him. The way Besithia looked at him… the way he watched him…

It made Prompto’s gut roil.

He said nothing.

Besithia reached out and Prompto’s heart futtered, empty stomach threatening to spill.

“Are you angry?” Besithia wondered, “Or… perhaps you are sad.”

He combed his fingers through Prompto’s hair. Prompto jerked away, fell to his side.

“Don’t… don’t touch me!” he hissed.

Besithia smiled.

“Am I not entitled to touch my own experiment?”

Prompto shrunk back, ignored the chill creeping up his spine, ignored the fire bleeding through his veins or the way his arms gave out under him.

“Is a god not entitled to their own creation?”

“You’re insane,” Prompto whispered.

“And you are mine, 234. You fascinating thing.”

The research Chief withdrew, his sneer lost in his wrinkles.

“I only hope you do not disappoint,” he mused, the lights disappearing as the door closed once more, “I have such plans for you, 234. Such exciting plans.”

 

* * *

 

**SITUATION REPORT: 1900 HOURS 11th FEBRUARY M.E. 754**

_Unit 05953234_

_Evolution One - Physiological Screening Result:_

_Detected increase in presence of mutant strain PM (Plasmodium malariae) in subject’s blood. Viability for use in experimentation appears sustainable. Subject exhibits visual signs of PM integration under stress._

_Response to stimuli thus far suboptimal compared to MT units of same make and model. PROJECT LOVELESS (PL) continues. Potential for ego death in PL yet to be determined._

_LT S. HIMES administered 2nd series of PL injection at 1630 11th February ME 754._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, hello.
> 
> I'm VERY sorry about the delays. I hate to say it but I'm going to have to switch to a bi-weekly update schedule. So I mean... just kinda as an explanation, I'm in the military and I'm about to be deployed very soon. In theory I should have access to my laptop for writing, but on the off chance I do *not* then the delays may be a little longer, for which I apologize in advance.
> 
> As always, your comments and kudos gimme life. I had 69 bookmarks and I was about to make a joke but then y'all had to go and bookmark more D:
> 
> On that note... I wonder what Fairy's up to - and Sacchi for that matter.  
> hummmmmmmmm...


	18. PvE

“We’ll start with one versus one.”

“Do you think it’s had enough time to process?”

Doctor Himes knit her brows at the look Chief Besithia gave her perhaps best described as withering.

“234 looks ready,” Besithia said as his attention turned to the unit in the other room.

Himes followed his gaze, her own landing on 234. Well, it was certainly standing on its own. That was something. It looked ill, pale as ever, veins black and pulsing as it wiped sweat from its forehead.

Ever since the second series of Plasmodium malariae the creeping black tendrils remained present. Sometimes they would fade, sometimes they would embolden, but most often they remained like this, a dim grey visible just beneath the skin, but only if one were observant enough to look for them.

Its demeanor changed somewhat as well.

“Unit 218,” Chief Besithia called over the intercom, “Initiate countdown.”

A light on the MT glimmered briefly before a voice rang out.

“Countdown initiated. Training module to begin in 10… 9 … 8-”

“234,” Chief Besithia called out.

234 turned its head toward the Chief, expression grim.

“Good luck,” Besithia smiled.

Himes sighed and Besithia’s lip curled in amusement when 234 raised both hands and offered them a rather rude gesture.

“6… 5… 4… “

“Do you see that, Lieutenant?” the Chief said to her, eyes locked on 234, “He’s _angry_ with us.”

Himes glanced at him.

His eyes looked … wild.

“2… 1… Begin training module.”

Himes turned her attention to the other room.

234 stood hunched, its stance defensive as 218 squared off against it. 218 made the first move, slow and measured steps carrying it straight for 234 which backed away.

218’s internal systems were firing away no doubt to analyze the ‘threat.’ Himes wondered if 234 did the same.

234 did seem to be performing analysis of its own, but what that meant exactly…?

Well, no time like the present to find out. Himes raised her tablet, fingers itching to document every move.

 

-

 

The MT moved so… freaky. It walked almost like a person but every step was awkward like it couldn’t figure out if it were human or robot.

The thing stalked toward him, glowing red eyes staring pointedly. _Target acquired, huh?_

Prompto swallowed, the lump in his throat back in place

How the hell was he supposed to beat this thing? He was athletic, sure. Kinda at least. He could run, but-

Prompto scanned the room again and, disappointingly, another exit had yet to magically appear.

So yeah. Nowhere to run.

He faced off against the MT, fists raised in a sort of pseudo-boxer stance - at least he thought so. He’d trained with Noct and Gladio like, what? Maybe once? Twice?

Well… still better than nothing.

The MT neared and lunged for him. Prompto sidestepped, the movement clumsy, and tripped over himself to land face-first on the floor.

The MT’s fist came down. Prompto rolled and narrowly avoided getting his skull bashed in.

Okay- so... so okay. That was a plus. The thing was powerful but he was fast _._

Prompto dove back and heaved himself up, head spinning. He sprinted for the other end of the room 99% sure he was running on pure fumes and adrenaline.

He dragged up his shirt by the collar and wiped his face to get the sweat out of his eyes and dropped it just in time to see a metal fist flying toward his face.

He jerked aside, but too slow and stiff. The MT caught him on the jaw. It sent him stumbling back with a sting shooting from the point of contact. His skin split. He could practically feel ever fiber rip apart while a telltale warmth blossomed from the cut and trickled down his cheek.

Prompto turned and raced away again, the MT on his tail. He wiped at the wound, pulled his hand away and looked down.

His heart fluttered and he was sure it stopped for a second.

Black. His blood was normal - it was normal red and normal blood, but there was black in it. Streaks of it pooled in the center.

His horror shot to the back burner when the whir of another punch rushed just past his head.

Prompto crawled away, chest heaving and he tried to catch his breath as the MT straightened out.

No good. His muscles already ached from everything else- from all those tests-  and they were getting tired too fast. He couldn’t dodge this thing forever.

He’d have to fight. He’d have to at least try.

Prompto stood tall.

“Come now, 234. Surely that’s not all you’ve got?”

 _Asshole_.

Prompto snapped his eyes toward the booth one room over. Besithia and the doctor peered down from within.

Doc Himes had that look on her face- that disappointed, annoyed one.

Yeah, nothing new there, lady.

Besithia, though, watched with a twisted grin on his face, eyes trained on Prompto even more intense than the MT's.

Heavy metal footfalls stole his attention.

Right. Ignore them. He was gonna kick this thing’s ass - assuming it had an ass - and then he was gonna … he was gonna make it out of here.

Or at least survive long enough to try.

First things first - punching the thing wasn’t gonna work. Fists plus metal probably weren't such a genius idea. Outside the box time.

The MT came at him again and Prompto sidestepped this time throwing a kick. The ball of his foot landed dead center on its chest and he pushed and vaulted backward with everything he had.

The MT jerked back, stumbling and crashing into the wall.

It was no one-and-done, but he landed a hit. And that was good enough for him.

Prompto landed, his legs trembling under him, and squared up.

The MT shimmied to a stand, its plate armor clattering with the motion. It shot forward in another assault and came forward just like before.

Prompto squatted and prepared the same kick but this time when his foot caught its chest the MT's metal fingers curled around his shin and gripped tight.

It swung, fast and hard, and let go on the third time around sending him soaring against the wall.

Prompto cried out when he hit and heard a crunch. He landed hard, fire shooting up from his shoulder which took the brunt of force.

He coughed, eyes burning.

Screw this. Screw all of this. He wasn’t gonna die here. He wasn’t gonna let some stupid hunk of junk do him in. He wasn’t gonna let them do this to him.

He’d kill it. He’d kill the MT and then... and then he'd kill the doctor. And he'd kill Besithia and-

Prompto curled in on himself, fire bleeding through his veins. Hot, it was _hot and it burned._

He saw it on his skin, black and bold like cracks climbing up his arms. It was fire and lightning and he clutched at his hair and at his head, a scream ripping out his throat.

The MT stood before him, its fist drawn back to deliver another blow, to end the fight.

It whipped through the air, so fast a whistle ripped through the quiet and-

It stopped dead, shaking and trembling and caught in Prompto’s hand.

Prompto raised his head, glaring out from under sweaty bangs, his eyes narrowed to slits.

His _red_ eyes.

He tightened his hold and heard the metal groan and creak, his black-tipped fingers going white with the effort. He snapped out his other hand, curled his fingers around the thing’s forearm, and shot to his feet.

He jerked the MT back and swung, mirroring its attack. A guttural growl rumbled from his chest tinged heavy and dark and… daemonic.

The MT went soaring toward the booth and its metal body slammed violently into the glass.

He stared at them when it hit. He stared as Doctor Himes jumped back in shock. He stared at Besithia who-

Who smiled at him.

The MT fell to the ground in a crash, a cloud of miasma rising from its body crumpled on the floor while its limbs twitched and scrambled for purchase.

Prompto panted in heavy breaths that brushed past his lips. His heart thundered against his chest.

He jumped when something twitched in his hand and looked down.

His heart did the flutter-stop thing again.

It was an arm. The MT’s arm, metal fingers twitching until eventually they stopped.

He'd ripped the thing clean off and sent it flying through sheer force.

Prompto dropped it and stepped back, skin prickling and hair standing on end. What'd he done. What'd he  _done - what-_

“Training module complete,” came Besithia’s pleased voice over the intercom, “Well done, 234. Very well done.”

 

* * *

 

Gladio slung his towel over his shoulder and grabbed his shirt from the locker with his free hand. He let his hand fall once he had it. fingers curling hard into the soft fabric.

No matter what, no matter how much he was keeping himself busy, that grainy security footage kept springing to mind at the most random times.

Those guys… There’d been three of’em, all twice as big as Prompto. The image of them grabbing that scrawny punk, shoving him into a car, taking him from right under all their noses…

What good was all this training if he couldn’t even protect one dumb, innocent kid?

Gladio snapped to attention when the door to the locker room swung open, voices accompanying it and bouncing off the tile walls.

Must be some Crownsguard back from training. Some of the older guys from the sound of it.

“-really think they’d do something like execution?”

“It’s the Empire. Wouldn’t be unheard of.”

Gladio pulled on his shirt and listened, not even feeling a little guilty for eavesdropping. They wanted privacy they could lower their voices.

“Yeah, but he’s a Lucian citizen.”

Gladio froze.

“They can’t just do that. I don’t think.”

“Look, I’m just saying I heard he’s on trial. Who knows what the verdict’ll be, let alone the sentence.”

Were they talking about… it couldn’t be.

“Yeah, well, I never liked Claud anyway.”

One of them laughed. Gladio heard the showers turn on.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re jealous.”

“Of him? No way. He didn’t get out, he was kicked. Plus the guy’s always been kinda creepy, right?”

“We’ve all got our vices. He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, so says you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I bet if you didn’t side hustle with him you wouldn’t be saying that.”

“Yeah, well. Money’s money. Hand me the soap.”

The conversation died off. Gladio closed his locker, duffle bag in hand, and went for the door. He slowed a little as he passed a pair of lockers, both doors ajar and name tags visible for anyone to see.

Decipio and Ictis, huh?

Gladio glanced past his shoulder with a frown. Looked like they had some rats in their midst.

 

* * *

 

Prompto groaned, head swimming. He winced when something pinched. Did something bite him?

“Hm. Levels are showing heightened presence in blood serum.”

Oh, no. Blood draw.

Groggy, he leaned over to one side, the laboratory a blur bleeding in and out of focus.

Oh, great. One of his favorite people.

Doc Himes frowned at the vial of his blood like she always did before giving it a little shake.

He watched her watch it, briefly wondering what exactly she was looking for.

Her sharp features came into focus, her lips pressed in a thin line.

No.

She wasn’t frowning.

“Progress,” she said to herself, “What a pleasant surprise.”

He followed her gaze, his own falling to the vial of blood.

Red and black, just like … before.

“What’d… what’d you do to me?” he mumbled. Himes looked over, surprised.

“You’re awake,” she noted, voice flat. “Some minor serological tests. I’m analyzing your blood serum for the presence of select antibodies.“ She turned away from him leaving him bound to the examination table like he always was.

“The drugs should wear off soon. I timed them to,” Himes continued in what had to be the most she’d ever spoken to him, “Chief Besithia wanted you cognizant for your visit this afternoon.”

“Vis..visit…?”

“The Chancellor is interested in your progress. He’s requested an audience with you.”

“Why?”

Doctor Himes set him a look, thin-lipped and stone-faced.

“I couldn’t begin to imagine, 234.”

Prompto sank against the table, tried to take a full breath in spite of the weight bearing down on his chest.

“Why’s my blood…” he said, getting his tongue working properly, “Why’s it look like that? Is that… It’s the Starscourge, right?”

He turned his head and looked at her, caught her eyes when she glanced up from the tablet.

She stared back at him a few beats too long, something flickering across her face - there one second and gone the next.

She looked down.

“It is,” Himes confirmed.

Prompto bit his lip and watched her fidget with the tablet.

“Am I gonna die?”

“Possibly.”

Himes set down her tablet and retrieved the vial of blood turning to store it among countless others.

He stared at the ceiling, numb.

“However.”

He looked over, though she kept her back to him.

“If that is the outcome then this experiment will be considered a spectacular failure.”

Hah. Right. Story of his life.

“Chief Verstael is… invested in your development.”

Prompto clenched his fists, the idea of that sitting in his gut all wrong.

“It’s likely the Chief will take every possible precaution to keep you alive.”

“Kinda seems counterproductive,” Prompto muttered, “What with the Scourge injections and all.”

“If the experiment proceeds as intended,” Himes started, “And that is a very big _if_ … then I believe it would stand to argue you’d not need concern yourself with death for a long, long time.”

Okay. Not ominous at all.

“I believe we have time to administer the third series.”

Himes retrieved another syringe, the big one filled with that smokey-black substance.

The Starscourge.

“Wait… isn’t it already… I mean the stuff’s in my blood, right? How much more-”

“Until the effects stabilize,” Himes said and stalked over. She tugged up his shirtsleeve and dabbed rather gently at his deltoid with an alcohol swab, “Your physical strength has already increased significantly, but it’s the ther sensations that need to level out.”

She pressed the needle against his skin and he bit his lip at the telltale prick of it sliding deep into muscle.

He watched the vial, watched the flood of black smoke seep inside him. He looked down, get clenching, saw his veins rising in tension, go black and visible under the harsh fluorescent lights.

He was shaking - usually these shots knocked him out, but -

Prompto clenched his fists and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Every muscle went tense, taught like earlier in the fight against the MT, but he wasn’t even - there was no threat, but-

Himes stepped back but watched him pointedly, lips pursing.

Prompto looked up when he heard her gasp, short and curt, but definitely taken aback.

“Interesting,” she breathed.

“What is?” he ground out and glared at her. A wave of warmth surrounded him and Prompto wiped his face on his shoulder, sweat gathering on his brow. It was like he’d just finished a run in summer heat at high noon.

When he looked up again Himes stared back at him.

It was minor. She hid it well.

But she was frightened.

Of _him._

Himes swallowed and found her voice, one hand retrieving her ever-present tablet.

“The eyes,” she stated as matter-of-fact as possible and punched in her notes, gaze trained on the tablet, “Series Three a success. Subject exhibits immediate visible signs of Plasmodium malariae integration. Continue-”

She blathered on, refusing to answer to him. Refusing to _look_ at him.

Prompto turned his head on the cool metal table and saw his warped reflection in the steel.

His eyes were red.

And they stayed that way.

 

* * *

 

“-documentation shows they left the country in early October of last year on one way tickets.”

Ignis stared down at the folder in one hand, the other keeping his phone pressed perhaps a bit too tightly against his ear.

“No itinerary for further travel plans?” he tried.

“No sir. The travel booking for Mr. Argentum shows a one way ferry ticket for Accordo while Mrs. Argentum’s ticket had her final destination listed as Cartanica.”

“Imperial Cartanica?”

“Yes, Mr. Scientia. It’s an industrial hot spot.”

Ignis looked back at the file and thumbed through it til arriving at Mrs. Argentum’s profile where a photo of a woman with dark hair and dark eyes smiled up at him.

Listed under occupation: Industrial engineer, LUCI-Tech International.

Such a visit made professional sense but it was a bold move, all things considered.

“Were you able to retrieve the phone records?”

“Ah, yes. Apologies sir, but considering the sensitivity of those documents we weren’t able to put them in the file for you. I’ve got them - just a moment… I’ve got them pulled up here if you have any questions?”

Ignis set the file in his lap. “Did Prompto receive any calls from his parents?”

Ignis heard typing on the other line.

“Um,” the Crownsguard cleared her throat and continued, sounding uncomfortable, “It looks like he received calls once a week shortly after they left. Then the calls just, um. They stop, sir.”

“Altogether?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And…” Ignis paused and bowed his head, closed his eyes as if to brace himself, “Did Prompto call them?”

The Crownsguard cleared her throat. Again.

“Yes, sir.”

A beat, then:

“About every other day. None of them went through.”

Ignis stared at the photo. He stared at Prompto’s mother, at her beautiful, warm smile.

“One last bit of information for you, sir.”

Ignis cleared his throat and nodded.

“The landlord tried to get a hold of them - apparently Mr. Argentum’s got access to his work email, at least. You may be able to reach him that way, sir.”

“Email,” Ignis echoed.

Email of all things.

How many times had Prompto tried to contact them? How many emails must he have sent?

“Is… that everything, sir?”

Ignis inhaled deeply. “Yes,” he sighed out, “That should be all. Thank you.”

“Of course, sir. Let us know if you need anything else.”

They ended the call. Ignis let his hand fall, hazel eyes locked on the file on his lap.

It was later he found himself sat at his computer, typing and retyping the same email over and again. Finally, he hit ‘send.’

 

-

 

 

 

 

> TO: Mr. Desolo Argentum -
> 
> I am reaching out to you on behalf of his royal Highness Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum regarding a matter pertaining to national security that involves your son Prompto Argentum. Due to the sensitive nature of this correspondence your hasty response is respectfully requested. I await your reply and will explain further the nature of our concerns once this method of communication has been appropriately verified.
> 
> Thank you for your time and attention to this matter.
> 
> Very Respectfully,
> 
> Advisor to His Royal Highness Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum,  
>  Ignis Scientia
> 
>  

-

 

 

 

 

> TO: Mr. Ignis Scientia,
> 
> Thank you for your message. I apologize for any delay in my response to you. I am currently stationed overseas for my job and have intermittent access to my email; however, I am aware of the importance of your outreach and will ensure I have as much access as possible to assist you with your investigation.
> 
> I am aware of the issues surround my adopted child. The reports have reached us here in Accordo and the developments continue to be reported on in the news. I do not condone the actions of Prompto nor have I had any involvement in his actions nor recent correspondence. I am willing and able to assist you in any manner you may require regarding the presumed actions being taken against Prompto.
> 
> My wife, who is also located overseas for her work, and I are not likely to return to Insomnia within the foreseeable future. I am loathe to ask, but I do request it be known that my wife and I have no involvement with the Empire outside of what our respective positions demand. In addition, it is our combined intent to disown Prompto upon our return. Already we have cut off all forms of communication and financial aid. I have attached the initial documentation to this email for your self-awareness.
> 
> Again, I cannot stress enough that my wife and I remain loyal citizens of the crown.
> 
> Thank you for your time and please let me know if there is anything I can do for you in the interim.
> 
> Respectfully,  
>  Desolo Argentum
> 
>  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES HELLO.
> 
> It could be longer, but SCREW IT WELL DO IT LIVE. Since I have one week to go til my sendoff date I'm writing my bum off.
> 
> Thank you guys for your comments. This damn thing just keeps going I'm tellin' ya. 
> 
> Fun Facts:  
> Some of the names in Latin mean - - -  
> Desolo - abandon, forsake, leave lonely, desert  
> Ictis - weasel  
> Decipio - deceive, mislead, cheat, beguile
> 
> Music:  
> Prom's fight against ~~his brother~~ the MT was written to [APOCALYPSIS Noctis](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGq5KNZxz7A) playing on repeat. Loudly.  
> All the other stuff was written to [The Niflheim Empire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=95S6AHD56Rw)


	19. Sleep

“It’s getting worse.”

“That’s not what I like to hear.”

“Well I’m sorry to inform you, sir, but sometimes experiments don’t go the way we want them to.”

Verstael scowled at Himes before letting his gaze drift to 234.

They’d moved it to a holding cell (the storage pod wasn’t made for holding something quite like 234). His new lodging was a cage of sorts, one with steel bars lined by a powerful Magitek barrier just in case said barrier should fail.

Not that it ever had, but 234 was a precious commodity. One never could be too careful. That and 234 had disappeared on him before, after all.

Slender and donning only an old set of grey scrubs, 234 paced from one end of his prison to the other.

234 had been wounding himself sporadically. Raised lines of pink flesh stood out on his skin against the creeping black marks that covered parts of his body like bruises.

And then there were the eyes. They were Verstael’s favorite.

The glowing eyes of an MT were a result of condensed daemonic miasma being crammed into a metal shell. That and whatever other means of Magitek were crammed in alongside it.

But not 234. No. 234 was an anomaly.

A masterpiece in the making.

A masterpiece that, at the moment, was threatening to come undone.

Beside him Himes jumped as 234 slammed his fists against the bars, the bang rumbling like thunder even in their observation deck one room over.

The raw strength… the sheer _power …_

“Daemonification is progressing too quickly, Sir,” Himes sputtered, “Your orders?”

Verstael watched 234 throw back his head and shriek. He caught only a flash of 234’s face, but his brows were drawn and his lips pulled back in an inhuman snarl. How did 234 _feel_ , Verstael wondered. Was he in _pain?_

How fascinating Verstael’s little abomination was.

Not even death could steal 234 from him. Verstael would not allow it.

“Perhaps it’s time to let him rest,” Verstael said, “Have 234 placed in one of the tanks. Administer the vaccination intravenously. Then deactivate him.”

“The… Sir, it’s only a prototype,” Himes gaped and clutched her tablet, “We’ve barely-”

“I don’t care. I want him kept alive, Lieutenant. See it done.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you kidding me?! Why didn’t he say anything?”

“That’s something we’ll have to ask Prompto, I’m afraid.”

“But- I mean, why wouldn’t he… doesn’t he trust us? Doesn’t he trust _me_?”

Ignis sighed, a tired frown pulling at his features. A brief summary had sufficed in place of sharing the full email. He’d anticipated this reaction. _This_ he couldn’t handle.

But had Noct read the email in its entirety?

Ignis wasn’t sure there existed a force on Eos that might’ve withstood the wrath that would surely incur.

“I followed up but I have yet to hear back. The best course of action in this situation is to remain calm-”

“ _Calm?!_ Are you shitting-”

“-and composed. We need to tread lightly. Perhaps Prompto’s parents have insights into this situation that we do not.”

“Yeah, when they’ve been gone for, what? Months at least? How was he even paying-”

“Working<” Ignis muttered, “A lot.”

“Huh.”

They both glanced over to Gladio who sat with his chin resting in his hands.

“Something to add?”

“Nah. Just heard something kinda interesting the other day. Some guys in the locker room.”

Noct huffed and Ignis sighed. “If, for once, you could focus, _please-_.”

Gladio rolled his eyes and leaned back.

“Relax. I’ve been listening. This’s been on my mind a while though. Guys said apparently there were some Lucians on trial in Niflheim.”

Ignis’ annoyance faded from one heartbeat to the next.

“On trial for what?” He stalked out from behind the counters, “International law demands foreign nationals be extradited to their home nation for criminal hearings - even during wartime. Otherwise they may technically be considered-”

“Prisoners of war, yeah,” Gladion muttered, “That’s whatI thought. At first I was thinking, y’know, maybe it was… “

Noct leaned in too but Gladio shook his head.

“It’s some guy these two knew. Name’s C-something. Cloud?”

“Where was this?” Ignis asked, “The locker rooms?”

“It was two Crownsguard talking about it if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Okay, so…?” Noct said with a frown.

“ _So_ ,” Gladio started, “I thought maybe it was worth lookin’ into, Princess. Get this- the guy’s on trial for aiding and abetting conspiracy against the Emperor.”

“Aiding…”

“Yeah. Seems he was playing some role in trying to smuggle out a high value detainee.”

“You think-”

“Makes sense, doesn’t it? You said Prompto told you they were gonna get out. Had a plan but they got caught?”

“Yeah,” Noct muttered, “But he said _almost_. He never mentioned-”

“I need names,” Ignis cut in, “And I hope you’ve mentioned this to-”

“My old man’s all over it.”

“And the two Crownsguard?” Ignis pressed.

“Ictis and Decipio. Both old timers. Seasoned vets. Seems like they’re involved in something a little shady. Might be able to give us some input.” He paused and grinned. “With a little convincing.”

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

 

“-and that’s supposed to hold it?”

“That’s correct, Chancellor. In theory.”

Prompto opened his eyes which was harder than it should’ve been. He was getting real sick of waking up like this, the world a blur and things and people blobs of color.

“And it’s to be decommissioned?”

Prompto blinked a few times. It was dark in here - this wasn’t his little pod, at least there was that. He moved - or tried to - winced and finding himself partially immobilized.

His insides felt like ash, same with the rest of him, like if something touched him he’d crumble away into dust.

Still… this wasn’t the pod. This was… colder than that.

He hadn’t felt cold in a long time. Not since they’d started the injections.

He reached out, fingertips brushing something cool and smooth.

Glass.

And beyond it stood Doc Himes… and the Chancellor. And Terreo.

He tried to yell, to shout at them to let him out, let him go, to go screw themselves -

Nothing came out expect for a whimper that he swallowed back down.

Enough movement for them to notice, though, and they looked over.

“Oh, my,” the Chancellor hummed as if amused, “Have we interrupted your nap?”

Prompto looked at him, caught eyes with the man. Ardyn teased him but he strained for his smile, the lines in his face pulled too tight.

“Just in time to say goodnight.”

Prompto glanced to Terreo through the glass.

“Finally, kid. Back where you belong. You look good.”

“The eyes are a bit disturbing. Red’s not his color at all.”

Terreo shrugged and folded his arms across his chest.

“Function over fashion, Chancellor.”

“What an abhorrent cost.”

“Chancellor,” Himes cut in and bowed her head, “I apologize for keeping your visit with 234 brief. The daemonification process was progressing too rapidly for us to counteract- at least not without deactivating the unit. Which… unfortunately, must be started quickly lest daemonification get too far.”

“Such a shame. We had so much to discuss,” Ardyn mused, eyes on Prompto.

He held his gaze. Ardyn narrowed his eyes.

“And how long will our dear unit be deactivated?”

“Indefinitely.”

“Ah.”

“Until his status stabilizes, at least, but… there’s no estimate. 234 is the first of its kind.”

“How very far you’ve come,” Ardyn said to him as he stalked forth and raised his hand.

Even with the glass barrier between them Prompto drew back as Ardyn trailed his fingers down the glass.

“And yet still so far to go.”

Prompto’s heart fluttered.

Deactivated? What did that… What were they gonna do? He tried again to talk, to ask them, to fight. He raised his fists, arms gangly and loose like he’d been lifting weights for days on end.

Instead he fell forward, palms and fingers sprawled against the glass. His breaths came out in little puffs on the glass.

“Chief Besithia is waiting for you if you’re ready, Chancellor. He’s quite happy to go over our observations with you. I’ll just need to begin the process before we step out.”

“Yes, alright. Very well, Lieutenant,” Ardyn sighed, all theatrics, and finally drew back.

Prompto watched as Himes moved toward a long row of control panels before stopping at one. She touched buttons, typed in commands, and looked over expectantly.

The base of Prompto’s tank lit up green and a siren sounded.

“Conservation initiated for Unit 05953234. Note: This Unit is scheduled for deactivation. Note: This Unit is scheduled for deactivation. Note: this Unit is-”

“Well isn’t that annoying,” Ardyn murmured.

Prompto ignored him. He ignored them all. He stepped back, noticing for the first time he was… he was pretty much butt naked. That and a liquid, slick and cold, began to bubble up from the bottom of the tank.

And it rose.

He stepped back, bare feet splashing, and felt a tug. He eyes darted to his chest, to the tubes and wires protruding from it up to the ceiling of the tank where they disappeared.

“Well, then. Chancellor, if you would?”

The liquid reached his shins.

Ardyn and Himes turned to leave. Adrenaline bled through him then shot like lightning. He banged his fists against the glass.

“Wait… wait!” he croaked. He coughed and leaned against the glass. He looked up, saw their retreating backs. And finally, he watched the door close behind them.

“Wait!” Prompto shouted, his eyes stinging with tears.

The liquid reached his knees.

“You know.”

Prompto choked and looked down. Terreo stared up at him, hands in his pockets and a satisfied smile on his face.

“I envy you, Prompto. I do,” Terreo said, “You were able to come back. Everything stood in your way, all those obstacles… and you came back. You’ve got a purpose. A destiny.”

“No!”

“Maybe…” Terreo bowed his head.

The liquid reached his chest. His skin prickled with goosebumps and he shivered. He pushed it away from his body, away _away,_ but it rippled back and it kept rising, _up up up._

“Maybe if you can find your destiny… I can too.”

Prompto struggled, breaths coming too quickly. The liquid was at his throat, slick and gooy and wet and-

“In fact… I’ve made my destiny,” Terreo continued, looking up and meeting Prompto’s wide eyed stare, “Your Prince and I have a date. Graduation. He’s in for a hell of a surprise, Prompto. It’s gonna be a blast.” Terreo laughed, really laughed, eyes wide and wild as he held up Prompto’s phone.

“We’re heroes, Prompto. You and me. Heroes of the Empire.”

Prompto held his breath and tried to swim up, to get air, but he couldn’t, _he couldn’t and it was almost to the top there was almost no air left-_

“And when he’s dead,” Terreo pressed, leaning up, hands flat on the glass, eyes watching Prompto’s face go red as he held his breath, body trembling - “We’ll take down Insomnia. We’ll take down Lucis. You and me. Together.”

_No…_

He couldn’t hold it any longer. Bubbles burst out his mouth and the liquid filled his lungs. Terreo was a blur outside the glass beyond the green liquid and bubbles.

Darkness edged at his vision. His fingers unfurled from fists, limbs useless, body floating and heart slowing.

_Noct…_

_Please… Noct…_

_Please help._

The world disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO YES.
> 
> I know it's short BUT rest assured, there is more coming. I was debating - this was going to be a quite longer chapter but I wanted to get it out and I am still working on some of the finer details for the coming installment. I'm sorry about the slow update time, but I want you all to rest assured:
> 
> I am working on this. I am not abandoning this. I know how the tale ends and I'll get there. It just might be a little slower.
> 
> As always, thank you for the INSANE kudos and comments. Hang tight as there's more to come and hoooo boy our bros are in for a RIDE.


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